A Perfect Match
by Savannah Singleton
Summary: New York Police Commissioner Frank Reagan, known as a man of principles, takes his job, his family, and his private life seriously. Has he met his match with the beautiful, sassy Nicole Richardson, aka steamy romance writer Cassandra Carrington? Is she using him for a new storyline? Is he more interested in her, or her friendship with the possible future mayor of New York City?
1. Chapter 1

I met him at a dinner party hosted by my dear friend and her husband, Sybil and Anthony Rosenni. I knew who he was the minute I saw him, long before we we were properly introduced. Anyone living in New York City would have to either be living under a rock or stoned 24/7 to not know who he was.

He was Francis "Frank" Reagan, New York City Police Commissioner. The Reagan's were a well-known family of New York City police officers. Frank had served the New York Police Department for years before his appointment as Police Commissioner by Mayor Frank Russo. His father and grandfather had served before him. His dad, Henry Reagan, had also served as Commissioner. Frank's three sons had followed in the Reagan footsteps. His oldest son, Danny, was a top detective for the NYPD, and his youngest son, Jamie, a graduate of Harvard with a law degree, was a patrol officer. His middle son, who also served as a detective for the force, had been murdered in the line of duty. Frank's only daughter, Erin, served as assistant district attorney.

Sybil and I had been friends for years. She had recently married Anthony Rosenni, a well-known businessman in Manhattan. Rumor was he had his sights on the mayor's office. Rosenni was Sybil's fourth husband. She had divorced the first two husbands; the third one, several years older than her, had died of a massive heart attack a year ago, leaving her a very rich widow. It was also rumored that Rosenni had married Sybil for her money. Sybil didn't seem bothered by the rumors, she liked being in the spotlight, whether the attention was positive or negative. I was aware that several of the Manhattan social crowd considered her as fake as her large breasts, and perhaps she was, but I loved her, she had always been there for me when I needed her. I had always admired her strength and her blasé attitude about everything. She was confident about who she was, she was happy with her life, and she didn't care what others thought. She did, however, enjoy any and all attention, whether it came from the most recent man in her life, or the most recent tabloid gossip. I had no doubt she would relish the attention she would receive as the wife of the mayor of New York City. I often wondered if Anthony's interest in politics was what attracted her to him. She was a brilliant, beautiful woman; he was short, round, with a receding hairline. I had a difficult time seeing the attraction, but she appeared deliriously happy; all signs indicated she adored Anthony. What did I know about love? I hadn't been in love for over thirteen years. Just because I made a living writing romance novels didn't make me an expert. My heroines were always as beautiful as Sybil, their leading men were always equally attractive. They were never short, fat, or bald. But I wrote fiction. Perhaps Sybil was madly in love with Anthony, as he was with her. I chose to give them both the benefit of the doubt.

Sybil had mentioned when she extended the dinner invitation that she had someone she wanted me to meet. I had no doubt she had intentions of setting me up, she was always trying to set me up with the _perfect _man. I had no idea the _perfect_ man she had in mind for this evening was New York City's own Frank Reagan. Frank Reagan was a grandfather to three, extremely attractive, and a widower. I had to admit, we did have a few things in common. We were both widowed, we were somewhat close in age — I was 53, he was in his early 60's. He had been a first responder when the twin towers collapsed on September 11, 2001. He had spent days at Ground Zero, working with other officers to recovery the bodies from those towers. My husband had been working in the South Tower that day, his remains had been among those recovered.

I had arrived to the dinner party late, by about 30 minutes. I had been to enough of Sybil's dinner parties to know that dinner was served well over an hour past the time indicated on the invitation. The cocktail hour always seemed endless, with boring conversations with people I cared nothing about, had nothing in common with. I was not the socialite of my dear friend. I was much more content to stay home, by the fire, with a good book, and an even better glass of wine. I hated dinner parties, and I hated being "set-up", but I loved my dear friend, and so I attended, and made an effort to feign interest in every boring person I met, every new man Sybil was certain I would discover I absolutely couldn't live without. I didn't, however, have to pretend when I was introduced to Police Commissioner Frank Reagan. The man interested me. Everything about him interested me. He certainly fit the physical criteria. He was tall, dark, and extremely attractive.

He had arrived even later than I had. I wondered if he had been detained, or was simply like me, and had deliberately arrived late.

I was sipping on a glass of red wine, and conversing with a Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Wainwright when Sybil brought him over.

"Frank, I'm sure you know the Wainwright's," she said. "I would also like you to meet my dear friend Nicole Richardson. Nicole is a long time New Yorker, and also a published writer."

"Very nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Richardson."

He extended a hand to the three of us.

"Nice to meet you as well, Commissioner," I said. "Please, call me Nicole."

"Nice to meet you, Nicole. And please, call me Frank."

"Nice to meet you, Frank."

"So, how's it going, Frank? Keeping that mayor in line?" Mr. Wainwright asked.

"Doing my best, sir. Not always an easy task, I must say."

"I'm sure of that," Mr. Wainwright replied, chuckling.

"I hate to be rude," Mrs. Wainwright said, "but we really must say hello to a few others. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Richardson. Great to see you, Commissioner."

"Great to see you as well, ma'am."

"I must mingle as well," Sybil said. "You two get to know each other."

"Well, I guess we should do as our lovely hostess requests," Frank said after Sybil left the two of us standing alone together. "Have you known the Rosenni's long?"

"Sybil and I have been friends for many years. I've known Anthony for about as long as Sybil has."

"I see," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "So, you're a writer?"

"Yes, I am."

"Anything I might have read?"

"Doubtful. I write fiction. Fiction aimed toward female readers."

"I see."

"Frank Reagan! Just the man I wanted to see."

Our conversation, or the start of a conversation, was interrupted by an elderly gentleman I did not recognize. I excused myself, saying I was in need of a refill, raising my empty wine glass.

"Nice to meet you, Nicole. Hope to visit with you more before the evening is over," Frank said.

"I'm sure we will," I replied.

About the time I located a waiter with a tray of red wine, the dinner bell rang. Sybil loved her formal dinner parties and her dinner bells. She would have fit in perfectly with the royals of the hit television show _Downton Abbey_. I followed the other guests into the large dining room. We all located our proper place at the table, checking the place cards for our appropriate seating.

"Ah, so, we meet again, Nicole," Frank said, finding his name on the place card next to mine.

"Yes, so we do."

"If I didn't know better, I would say this was planned."

"I know Sybil well. I assure you, it was absolutely planned," I said, smiling.

"Ah. I see. Well, can't say I'm disappointed."

Frank pulled my chair out, waited for me to be seated, and then sat in the chair to the right of me.

"So, what do you think of the rumors going around? Should I butter up to Anthony, just in case he becomes our next mayor?"

"I think that might be a wise thing to do."

"Perhaps you can put in a good word for me, should I need one."

I didn't have a chance to reply. Anthony had stood, tapped his wine glass in an effort to gain the guests' attention, and then proceeded to make a toast, thanking everyone for coming, and ending the toast especially thanking his "beautiful bride".

Sybil beamed with pleasure.

Frank and I chatted throughout the dinner. I wasn't sure if he truly found me interesting, or if I was just the lessor of two evils. Isabel Delaney sat to his right, and she had a reputation as the biggest gossiper in New York City, suspected of spreading more gossip throughout the city than _Page Six _of the _New York Post. _Most of New York's elite loathed her. Sybil found her "fabulously entertaining".


	2. Chapter 2

Sybil called early the next morning. She was an early-morning person, as well as a night-owl party girl. I was amazed at how she managed to function, and to always look radiantly beautiful, with so little sleep. She knew it was safe to call early, as I, too, was an early riser. The difference was I rarely stayed up late. I needed my beauty rest. I didn't have the courage — or bank account — required for regular trips to the plastic surgeon. Plus, I had a huge aversion to needles. No Botox for me.

I was seated in front of my computer by seven most mornings, large mug of steaming hot coffee on the desk to my left. This morning I was up, had my coffee in hand, but hadn't made it to the computer. I was having difficulty coming up with a suitable storyline for my next novel. I just didn't have any fresh ideas at the moment. I had written eight novels in the past thirteen years. How many different interesting storylines could one come up with? Even the most famous best-selling authors' books all began to sound the same after a while, especially those who wrote romance.

I began writing not long after Daniel perished when the planes flew into the twin towers on that horrible day now commonly known as 9/11. Before that day I had worked part-time as an interior decorator. That was how I met Sybil. She was a client who hired me to decorate her condo. We became best friends almost immediately. I couldn't go back to work after I lost Daniel. I didn't want to be around people, I wanted to hide away from everyone and everything. While I knew everyone meant well, I just reached the point that I couldn't stand to hear one more person say the words "I'm sorry for your loss." I started writing for something to do, a way to keep busy, to occupy my mind and my time. I had no plans to share my stories with anyone. Sybil joined me for coffee one morning. I had accidentally left my latest story pulled up on my laptop, which I left sitting on the coffee table. Sybil started reading while I was in the kitchen pouring coffee. She was impressed, and insisted on sharing it with a friend, an editor with a small publishing company. That friend said her company didn't publish romance novels, but felt my work had potential, and passed the manuscript on to a literary agent she often worked with, Kerri Lane. A few months later I found myself signing a contract with Kerri. Just over two years later I was a published writer, and my first novel was on the best-seller list.

"So, tell me, Nicole. How'd it go last night?"

"How'd what go, and aren't people supposed to say hello, or good morning first?"

"Rubbish. No time for small talk. I want to know how it went with Frank last night."

"Oh, that. How do you think it went? He took me home after your dinner party, and we made mad, passionate love in the back of a squad car, with the lights flashing and the sirens howling all the way."

"Very funny, Nicole. For one thing, Frank Reagan doesn't ride in a squad car."

"I know that. But it made a good story, didn't it? And isn't that what you wanted?"

"Never mind. You can tell me later, while we're jogging in the park."

"I wasn't aware we were jogging this morning."

"Well, we are, and we need to hurry, or we'll miss him."

"Miss who? What are you up to, Sybil?"

"Frank Reagan jogs in the park. I've passed him several Saturday mornings. If we hurry we can —"

"You've got to be kidding me! No way are we doing that!"

"And just why not?"

"Seriously. Last night was obvious enough. Showing up at the park this morning would be way over the top. Forget it!"

"Did you like him?"

"Yes."

"Are you interested?"

"This is ridiculous. Even for you. He's the police commissioner!"

"So what! He's available, you're available. He's attractive, you're attractive. He jogs, you jog. And we're wasting time."

"No. I'm not doing it. Forget it."

"Okay, fine. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me. I need to go jog this morning, and I don't want to go alone. Please, be a dear friend, and go with me."

"That's just low, even for you. Have you no shame?"

"None. How do you think I always get what I want?"

"I was pretty sure it was those expensive boobs!"

"Ha! Ha! Very funny. Don't knock them, hon, 'til you've had a pair of your own."

"No thank you."

"I'll see you in fifteen minutes."

Make that 20. I need to throw on some makeup."

"You have 25 minutes. Do more than just _throw on_ makeup."

I hung up, shaking my head. I couldn't believe I had let her talk me into going. I was, however, looking forward to the possibility of seeing Frank Reagan again. And I had just as much right jogging in the park this morning as he did, I told myself. If we happened to run into each other, so be it!

I was ready and waiting on the front steps of my brownstone when Sybil arrived.

"You look good," she said. "Good choice on jogging outfit. I always like that color on you."

I had dressed in fushia. It was my favorite color choice as well. It worked well with my ivory skin tone, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I envied Sybil, who glowed in blacks, whites, and vibrant reds with her dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skin. I also envied her long, straight hair. Slicked back in a ponytail, it looked styllsh. My long, wavy hair was much less impressive in a ponytail. I had been hesitant to pull it back this morning, but knew it would look much worse if I didn't by the time we finished our jog. This cool May morning Sybil was dressed in bright red. Our clothes clashed; we would certainly stand out at the park; we would not be missed. I was sure that was Sybil's plan.

She seemed to know exactly where to start our jog. We completed our usual three miles. I normally ran five when I was alone, but Sybil insisted three was all she could handle, all she needed. I doubted she needed to jog at all. She was one of those women who could eat anything and everything, it seemed, and never gain an ounce. I, on the other hand, had to work a bit harder to keep my figure. We were in the middle of our cool-down walk when we met them coming from the opposite direction. Frank Reagan and his chief of staff, Garrett Moore, were walking toward us, deep in conversation, while two men, security guards I assumed, walked a bit behind them.

"Good morning, ladies. I didn't expect to see the two of you here this morning," Frank said.

"One of us didn't expect to be out here this morning," I replied, giving Sybil the eye.

"Well, I'm glad that you are. It's a pleasure to see you again. Both of you."

Frank introduced us to his chief of staff.

"So, are you just starting out, or done?"

"Oh, we're done. We were just headed for a cup of coffee. Perhaps the two of you would like to join us," Sybil said.

"Umm—" Frank replied, looking first at Garrett, and then at me.

"Sure," he finally said. "We have time for that, don't we Garrett?"

"I'm not sure we do, sir."

"Sure we do."

"Whatever you say, Commissioner. You're the boss."

"Then that's settled."

Frank smiled, his usual smile I had seen him do during televised news conferences. It was the smile where his whole face scrunched, emphasizing his wrinkles, his character lines, the smile that made him even more attractive, more appealing. It was so unfair how men became more distinguished as they aged, while we women just got old. Even the glasses he wore added character. I had found myself fantasizing about removing those glasses at just the right intimate moment.

A group of five young men jogged past us, each one saying, "Morning, Commissioner" in unison.

"Morning, Gentlemen," Frank replied, as all but one passed by.

"Hey, dad," the young man said, stopping to chat, as his jogging buddies continued on without him.

"Jamie," Frank replied, nodding his head. "Shouldn't you keep up with your frends?"

"Nah, they're slow. I'll catch up. Besides, Eddie's dragging behind. It'll give her a chance to catch up."

The young man was Frank's youngest son. He stood smiling, waiting to be introduced to the two women chatting with his dad. At that moment, a young woman appeared.

"And so she has. Ms. Janko, good to see you this morning."

"Good morning, sir."

"I'd like you to meet Mrs. Sybil Rosseni, and her good friend, Ms. Nicole Richardson. It is Ms., not Mrs., is that correct?" Frank asked, looking at me.

"Yes, Ms.," I replied.

"Rosseni, as in Anthony Rosseni?" Jamie asked.

"Yes," Frank replied, annoyance in his voice. He continued the introductions. "This is my son, Jamie, and his partner, Officer Eddie Janko."

"Have we met before, Ms. Richardson?" Officer Janko asked.

"I don't believe so."

"You just look so familiar."

"Don't you two need to move along, catch up with your friends?" Frank asked.

"Yes, dad," Jamie said, smiling.

"I'll beat you to them," Janko said, laughing as she took off running.

"Hey, no fair," Jamie said, anxious to take off after her. "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rosseni, Ms. Richardson. Dad, see you at Sunday dinner tomorrow?"

"I will be there, as always."

As Jamie chased after his partner, Frank sighed, shrugging his shoulders.

Our youth," he said, "gotta love them. Now, weren't we headed for coffee?"


	3. Chapter 3

We stopped at the first food truck we came to, and got our coffee, then sat at a park table.

"Very nice dinner, Sybil," Frank said, as we all sat down.

"Glad you enjoyed it," Sybil replied.

"Did you enjoy it, Nicole?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.

"I did. I always enjoy Sybil's dinner parties. She does know how to entertain."

"I would agree."

Frank's chief of staff finally spoke, having remained silent since his "you're the boss" comment.

"So, tell us about yourself, Ms. Richardson."

"Ms. Richardson — Nicole — is a friend of Sybil and Anthony. She doesn't need to be interrogated, Garrett, while she enjoys her coffee."

"I was just making conversation, sir."

Sybil suddenly jumped up.

"I just remembered. I have to be somewhere this morning. If you all will excuse me —"

I stood up, intending to leave with her.

"Stay, Nicole. You all get to know each other. I will call you later. Must run. Bye, my darlings."

And, just like that, she was gone.

Frank had stood as well.

"God, could she be any more obvious? I am so sorry, Commissioner. And so embarrassed."

"Please, don't be. And as I said last night, it's Frank. Our mutual friend wants us to get to know each other. I see no reason to disappoint her. Do you?"

"No, none at all."

Not sure why none of us were aware of the cloud that had just come over us, but it suddenly opened up and dropped rain on us, large, massive drops of rain. The men had on caps; I had only a visor.

"We'd better head to our vehicle, sir," Garret said.

"Yes, I believe we should. Nicole, are you close?"

Making an effort to hold my light jacket over my head, I replied, "I live nearby. I walked."

"Then you must allow us to give you a ride home," Frank said.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary."

"Of course it is. Isn't it, Garrett? How would it look if the Police Commissioner left a beautiful woman stranded in the rain?"

"Or any woman. It would not fare well for the department, sir. And we're getting wetter as we stand here, discussing it."

"So we are."

Frank put his hand on my arm, leading me in the direction of the SUV, as we made a dash behind Garrett. The two guards followed behind us.

I was embarrassed to get in the SUV with my soaked clothes and shoes, but the men were as wet as I was. I sat in the back, between Frank and Garrett.

"Nice to have someone sitting between us, Garrett," Frank said. "Nicole smells so much nicer than you."

"Yes, she does," Garrett agreed.

I was suddenly embarrassed that I had dabbed on a bit of perfume after dressing. Who put on perfume to go jogging? I was as obvious as my dear friend Sybil. I was surprised that Frank hadn't taken off running the other direction, instead of being such a gentleman. When we arrived at my brownstone, he stepped out of the SUV, held the door open while I did the same. The rain had stopped. The sun was shining.

"I'm sorry our coffee got rained out, Nicole. But perhaps another time?"

"I would like that, Frank. Thank you for the ride."

"My pleasure," he said, smiling that big smile.

XXXXXX

I spent most of Sunday at my computer. The "writer's block" I had suffered was gone. I had a fantastic idea for a new story; I couldn't type the words fast enough.

I thought of Frank that afternoon, and the dinner he would be having with his family. The Reagans were known for their Sunday family dinners. I wondered if my name would come up, if Jamie would mention seeing us all in the park, and ask about us. I thought of Jamie's young, attractive partner, Eddie Janko. I was certain we had never met before, but I also knew it was quite possible she recognized my face.

XXXXXX

Frank called my cell phone Monday morning. He said he had gotten my number from Sybil, hoped I didn't mind.

I was surprised I hadn't gotten a heads-up from Sybil, but I expected to hear from her soon, wanting full details. She had been pleased to learn he had given me a ride home from the park, but sorry to hear our coffee together had been cut short by the rain.

Frank repeated the same sentiment, saying he was sorry we hadn't gotten to chat longer, he was anxious to get to know me better. He mentioned a new exhibit at the museum he was expected to attend Wednesday evening, saying he hated such affairs, that he knew nothing about art.

"I'm hoping to see you there, Nicole. It would certainly turn a dull evening into a more pleasurable one," he said.

_Had the police commissioner just asked me on a "non-date" date?_ I asked myself.

"I do have plans to attend. I'll look forward to seeing you there."

That was a lie. I had no plans to attend; I knew nothing about a new art exhibit. But if the commissioner wanted me there, I would be there. I just hoped it wasn't by "invitation only". If it was, I was sure Sybil would have no problem coming up with an invitation for me. I logged on to my computer immediately to google search this event.

An invitation was needed to attend the art exhibit opening, but Sybil came through for me.

"Piece of cake, my darling friend," she replied, "but I will expect full details afterward."

XXXXX

I arrived late; I had gotten tied up on the phone with Kerri. She was pleased to learn that I finally come up with a plot for my next novel, and wanted to hear all about it.

I found Frank quickly. He was involved in conversation with two couples I didn't recognize, so I made my way to the bar for a glass of wine, then walked around for several minutes, pretending to be impressed. I appreciated art as much as anyone, but I had little use for the abstract art that was on display this evening.

"What does it say to you?"

I turned toward the voice. It was Frank.

"Not a thing," I said.

"It says the same to me. Glad you made it. I thought perhaps I had been stood up."

"Stand up the most attractive man in New York City? Never!"

We were immediately joined by the mayor of New York and his wife. It was rumored that this latest mayor and Frank tended to butte heads often. Frank introduced us.

"Have we met before, Ms. Richardson? You look familiar," the mayor's wife asked.

"I don't believe so, ma'am," I replied.

"Ms. Richardson is a published writer, I've been told," Frank said, "perhaps you've read some of her work."

The mayor's wife studied my face for a moment, and then her eyes got big, nervousness — perhaps even fear — was apparent in them, at least to me.

"No, I don't believe I have," she replied. She turned to the mayor and said, "We really must continue on. I saw the Belvederes arrive, we must say hello."

I had no doubt that the mayor's wife recognized me, that she had indeed read some of my work. She had read at least one of my romance novels, but didn't want her husband, or Frank, to know that she had. I found that amusing. I couldn't wait to tell Sybil, she would find it "deliciously" amusing.

Once the mayor and his wife had excused themselves, Frank asked, "What is it with everyone thinking you've met?"

It hadn't come up in our conversations what I had published, only that I had. I started to tell Frank that this woman, as well as Officer Janko, must have read at least one of my novels, and recognized me from the photo on the back cover, but doing so would reveal something that at least one of them didn't want revealed. It was important that I respect my readers, and their privacy. I decided to tell Frank about my novels another time, when he would hopefully not make the connection to the mayor's wife. I also decided it would be best for me not to mention it to Sybil.

"I'm sure they recognize me from my "Most Wanted" poster," I teased.

"I don't think so. That I would recognize."

"Then perhaps from my "missing" photo on the back of milk cartons. Do you drink milk, Frank? I bet you do."

Frank laughed.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Try again."

"Then they must have me confused with some beautiful model or actress."

"Now that I believe. You are a very beautiful woman, Nicole. And, a beautiful woman with an empty wine glass in her hand. Let's take care of that, shall we?"


	4. Chapter 4

As Frank and I made our way to the art gallery bar, I asked, "So, where's your sidekick this evening?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Garrett Moore."

"I don't make a habit of knowing the whereabouts of Mr. Moore, but I would assume he's at home. Possibly at the office. He does tend to work late often."

"More than you? I understand you're quite the workaholic."

"My job is demanding, requiring a great deal of my time. Even now, while I'm not officially on the clock, I'm fulfilling my duties as commissioner."

"And here I thought we were on a date, Frank. I'm so disappointed."

Frank handed me a fresh glass of red wine from the bar.

"A date? I don't recall the last time I went on a date. My life doesn't lend much time for a social life."

"Well, we'll just have to see about that."

"Will we, now?"

"Yes, we will. Everyone needs a social life. Even the police commissioner of New York City."

"Well, I'm not so sure about that."

"Well, I am!"

Frank seemed uncomfortable with the conversation. I wasn't sure if it was the subject itself, or my aggressiveness. I had no doubt Frank Reagan was accustomed to being in control of all situations.

"I'm curious about your interest in my chief of staff."

"Oh, I was just surprised he allowed you out at night without him."

"Very funny, Nicole. Garrett and I are not attached at the hip."

"That's good to know, because I think he could put a huge damper on an evening."

"I would tend to agree with you on that. Garrett's a good man, though. I couldn't ask for a more loyal advisor. Or friend, for that matter."

We had continued to walk around the art gallery as we talked, Frank nodding hello to the other patrons as we passed.

"Well, I think my work is done here," he finally said.

"You came, you saw, you were seen, you left."

"That sums it up pretty well. You live close, can I assume you walked?"

"Are you kidding me? In these heels? No way!"

I had dressed in a short, navy, simple cocktail dress, and navy three-inch spiked heels.

"Then can I offer you a ride home, if you're ready to leave?"

"I was hoping you would. And I am very much ready to leave."

We set our glasses down on the nearest tray, and worked our way to the exit, Frank's hand on the small of my back, guiding me along the way.

Once outside, I said, "It's such a beautiful evening. We _could_ walk."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"I think it's a great idea." I took my heels off, slung them over my shoulder, and started down the sidewalk.

"Come on, Frank."

Frank stood, first looking at me, and then the black SUV that was obviously his ride.

"Nicole —"

"What, Frank?"

"I have a driver. I can't just leave him here."

"Come on, Frank. I'll protect you from the bad guys."

"Very funny. I think we should get into the vehicle."

"And I think you should lighten up. Now, you have two choices. You either walk with me and enjoy the cool night air, or you just stand there, allowing me to walk home all by myself. It won't look good in tomorrow's paper, when my slashed body, retrieved from a dumpster, makes the front page."

"Are you insinuating that my streets aren't safe?"

"I guess I'll find out."

Obviously annoyed by my actions, and struggling with what to do, Frank said, "Just give me a minute."

He walked over to the SUV, opened the back door, said something to the driver, removed his suit jacket — leaving on his black vest and red tie — folded his jacket neatly, and placed it on the seat, closing the door when done.

We chatted as we walked. The SUV followed along behind us. Along the way we encountered two young police officers patrolling the streets. As we neared, I recognized them as Frank's young son, Jamie, and his partner, Eddie Janko. They were talking, laughing, almost flirting with one another, it seemed. The moment they saw Frank, they jumped to attention.

"As you were, Officers," Frank said. "Keeping our streets safe?"

"Trying to, sir," Jamie replied.

"Seems to be a quiet night," Frank said.

"Yes, sir. So far."

"Good. Let's hope it stays that way. Carry on, Officers."

As we walked away, I could hear Officer Janko.

"Isn't that the same woman from the park? I know I've seen her before."

"Shh. They can still hear us," Jamie said.

"Yes, we can!" Frank loudly replied, not looking back.

We could hear their giggles. Frank shook his head.

"They're cute together," I said.

"My officers are not supposed to be _cute_ together. They are supposed to be efficient, effective."

"Do you ever stop being Police Commissioner, and just be d_ad_?"

"I do. At home. But as long as Jamie is in uniform, he is an officer of the NYPD, not my son."

"Can you really separate the two?"

"I have no choice."

"It must be difficult, though."

"More than you could possible know. I have no doubt, however, that the _son_ Jamie will be eager to share what he just saw with the rest of the family at dinner Sunday."

"Will that be a problem for you?"

"I'll see to it that it's not."

We had arrived at my home. I invited him in for a drink.

"Umm—" he replied, first looking at his watch, then the SUV.

"It's still early," I said. "One drink, surely you can handle that."

"I suppose one drink wouldn't hurt."

Once inside, I tossed my shoes, turned on a few lamps.

"Make yourself at home, Frank. I'll get that drink. Same as you were drinking earlier?"

"That'll be fine."

"Feel free to loosen the tie."

"My tie is fine, thank you."

"If you say so."

"I do."

We sat in the living room and talked for over an hour, refreshing our drinks once. Frank did most of the talking. I asked him all about his family. He seemed comfortable talking about them, especially his three grandchildren.

He asked about my family.

"There's obviously no husband. So, do you have a long list of exes like your friend Sybil?"

I laughed.

"No. Sybil and I are best friends, but there is very little we have in common, except for both losing a husband by death. Mine died many years ago."

I didn't go into the details of his death. I didn't want to get into the discussion of 9/11. It was too depressing, for me, and for him as well, I felt certain.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he replied. "Any children?"

"No, we tried, but it never happened."

"Well, I can tell you from experience, they can be a pain in the ass, but they can be a blessing as well. Same with the grandchildren."

"Your children all turned out quite well, it seems. Two on the force, another one the assistant DA. You must be very proud."

"I am," he said. "And as much I hate to leave good company, it's getting late and I do have an early meeting in the morning."

He took the last sip of his drink, set his glass on the side table, then stood to leave.

I walked him to the door. He stood for a moment, both hands in his pants' pockets, staring at the Persian entryway rug, as if he was studying the pattern of it.

Removing his glasses and placing them in the pocket of his perfectly pressed white shirt, and pursing his lips together as I had noticed he often did when contemplating an issue, or a question from the press, he looked at me and said, "You make me nervous, Nicole. Somehow I think you could be very bad for me, but I enjoy being with you. I'd like to see you again."

"I'd like that, too."

He cupped my face with his large hands as he leaned down and softly kissed my lips. The kiss lasted only a second. The second kiss latest much longer. His lips were soft and moist, the last sip of his Scotch lingered on them as well as his breath. His mustache felt scratchy, just as Angelina, the heroine in my third novel, had said after her first kiss from her lover, Antonio. She had gotten used to it; I was sure I would as well, given the chance.

"Goodnight, Nicole."

"Goodnight, Frank."

I closed the door behind him, picked my heels up off the floor, and carried them to the bedroom closet, where I changed into comfortable pajamas. Then I went back into the living room, picked up Frank's empty glass, carried it to the kitchen sink, poured myself a third glass of wine, and turned off the kitchen light. I walked into my study, flipped on the small desk lamp, sat down, and waited impatiently for my computer to wake up. The night was still somewhat early; I had much writing to do.


	5. Chapter 5

Frank called late Thursday evening. He said he was just finishing his milk, and then was headed to bed.

"Did you have cookies with that milk, Frank?"

"Certainly."

I tried to imagine Frank in his kitchen drinking milk and eating cookies, what he would be wearing. I couldn't picture him in anything other than his classic Ralph Lauren three-piece suits and striped ties. He was a tall, burly, handsome man, and wore his suits well. I was interested in the more casual side of Frank Reagan.

He asked if I was available for dinner Saturday evening.

"Will it be an actual _date, _where you pick me up and everything_?_"

"I'm asking you to have dinner with me at a nice, quiet restaurant. If you want to call it a date, fine. And yes, I will pick you up. Are you available or not? You know, Nicole, sometimes you remind me of Garrett. You both seem to enjoy giving me a hard time."

"But I'm much prettier, and much more fun."

"Yes, you are. So, do we have a _date_ or not?"

"We do."

"Good."

I had dinner plans with Sybil Saturday night, but I knew she would have no problem with me canceling on those plans to have dinner with Frank Reagan.

XXXXX

Friday evening Frank called just before ten.

"Hope I'm not disturbing anything."

I assured him that he wasn't.

He said he'd had a long, stressful evening at the office, and was tired and in need of a drink, and a pretty face, wondered if he could come by, if I was sure he wouldn't be intruding.

"I'm here, Frank. I'll have that drink ready."

I didn't have the drink ready. He arrived more quickly than I expected. I had made a dash to the bathroom to freshen my makeup and brush my hair. I was spraying on a bit of perfume when the doorbell rang. He looked tired, drained.

"You smell nice," he said, kissing me. "Thanks for letting me stop by on such short notice. I didn't expect you to be home on a Friday night, at least not alone."

"My date for the evening left right before you called."

"I see," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm teasing Frank. The only _date_ I had tonight was with a good book and a glass of wine. Take off your coat, loosen your tie, and I'll pour that drink for you."

As he proceeded to remove his coat, he asked, "What is it with you and my tie?"

"You always look stuffy, rigid. I bet you don't even loosen it at home," I said, handing him his drink.

"You'd be surprised at how I dress at home."

"Would I?"

"Yes, you would. And I'm not rigid."

"Right, you and the tin man."

"Who?"

"Never mind. Let's sit, and you can tell me about your evening."

We sat next to each other on the sofa.

"I can't get into any details, just that there had been a situation involving Danny and his partner."

"Are they okay?"

"Yes, thank God."

"Bad guy caught?"

"Bad _guys_. Yes. So, how was your day?"

"Boring, compared to yours."

"I would take boring any day." He touched the side of my face, brushed my hair out of way. "I've missed you."

"You just saw me two days ago."

"I know. I still missed you."

"I missed you, too."

He pulled me into his arms. I loosened his tie before putting my arms around his neck. We spent the rest of the evening talking very little.

XXXXX

When Frank arrived Saturday evening for our dinner date, he appeared upset. He entered without kissing me, took several steps into the living room, then turned to face me. I noticed a paperback book in his hand. He held it up, exposing the back cover.

"Is this you?"

I glanced at the photo.

"It certainly looks like me."

"Officer Janko seems to think it does, and so does Jamie. And so do I."

I laughed. "So Miss Janko _is _a fan. I thought she must be."

"So this _is_ you?"

"Well, it's me, over ten years ago. I've changed a bit. Added a wrinkle or two."

"So you're Cassandra Carrington, and you wrote this trash?"

"I beg your pardon. Have you read it?"

"No, I haven't read it! I don't read smut. And I don't keep company with people who do!"

"Well, apparently you do," I teased, putting my hands on his chest.

"This isn't funny, Nicole."

"Did anyone ever tell you how sexy you are when you're all hot under the collar, Frank?"

"Cut it out! This is serious."

"What is so serious about it? And by the way, it's not trash, and I take offense to you calling it that."

"What do you call it? Look at the picture on the front cover!"

"I've seen it. It's a beautiful woman in the arms of a handsome man. What's wrong with that?"

"It's highly suggestive. Look at how she's dressed."

"Wow. I knew you were rigid, but I didn't realize you were prudish as well."

"I am not prudish."

"Kinda sounding that way, Frank. Just saying—"

"Nicole, can you be serious for one minute!"

"I prefer not."

"So I've noticed!"

I took a deep breath.

"My life was very serious for years. I don't want to be serious anymore. I want to have fun. I want to enjoy life, while I still can."

"I understand that. Anthony told me about your husband. I'm sorry for your loss."

I cringed at his words.

"What? Did I say something wrong? I _am_ sorry for your loss. I wish you had told me how he died. I wish you had shared that with me."

"You didn't say anything wrong. I know you're sorry, and I appreciate it. My husband's body parts were removed from the rubble, rubble that you sifted through. I didn't want to have that conversation with you."

"No, I would think not." The tone of his voice had softened. "So why didn't you tell me who you were?"

"I did tell you. Sybil told you when she introduced us. I'm Nicole Richardson, a published writer. Romance —_ steamy_ romance as it says on the back cover — is what I write, under the pen name of Cassandra Carrington."

"Why the pen name? Don't writers have pen names to hide their true identity?"

"Some do. But they don't put their picture on the back cover. According to my agent, a name like Cassandra Carrington sells steamy romance better than Nicole Richardson."

"I happen to like the name Nicole. My granddaughter is named Nicole. I think it's a beautiful name."

"Well, the name may be beautiful, but it's not sexy. And Richardson certainly isn't. So, tell me. How'd you come across my book? Did you buy it?"

"No I didn't buy it! It belongs to Miss Janko. It seems she finally realized why she recognized you. She told Jamie, and he showed up at the house with it, right before I left, wanting to know if I was aware of who you are."

"Ahh, I see. New York's finest solving yet another case."

"Don't make fun of my police department, and don't make light of this. You didn't tell me who you were, and I have to think there was a reason."

"There was a reason. You never asked. It never came up in the conversation."

"I believe it did. It came up when Miss Janko said you were familiar, and again when the mayor's wife said the same."

"That was so funny!"

"What was so funny?"

"The way she couldn't get away from us fast enough when she realized who I was. I didn't say anything either time because I don't reveal my readers, especially when they so obviously don't want to be revealed, as was the situation with the mayor's wife. I assume we're no longer going out for dinner?"

"I don't think it's wise, under the circumstances."

"Right. It wouldn't fare well for the department for the Police Commissioner to be seen in the company of a writer of such _smut," _I said, picking up the paperback from the sofa table where Frank had laid it. "Got it."

Frank didn't reply. He stood with his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips while staring at the floor.

"Fine." I tossed the book over onto the sofa. "Anthony Rosseni doesn't seem to be embarrassed to have me as a guest in his home, seated at his dinner table next to the Police Commissioner, but whatever. And after I spent all morning shopping for the perfect dress to wear to impress you. A dress, I might add, that is incredibly tight and uncomfortable, not to mention the heels. You know, Frank, I was really looking forward to this evening with you. Dinner at a cozy romantic restaurant, nice bottle of wine, and then back here afterward. I was hoping the night might actually end in the bedroom."

"Well, you look great in the dress. I _am_ impressed. And I was hoping for the same thing, but I think we need to discuss this some more."

"Whatever you say, Frank, but if we're not going out, I'm getting out of this dress, and into something more comfortable. Pour yourself a drink while I go change. And open that bottle of wine on the counter. I'm suddenly in serious need of a glass."

As I headed toward the bedroom, I stopped and looked back at him.

"And, Frank, lose the damn tie!"

I walked into my bedroom, stood for several moments, taking a deep breath, and then kicked off one heel, attempted to kick off the other while reaching for the back zipper of my dress, losing my balance in the process. Swirling around in an effort to catch myself, I found myself facing the doorway. Frank was standing just inside. The tie was gone, as well as his jacket.

"I thought I might help you out of that dress. It looks like you could use some help."

Our eyes met and held for a few moments before he walked over to where I stood. I reached down to remove my remaining heel before turning away from him. As I held my hair out of the way, he slowly pulled the long zipper down. The wailing of distant sirens broke the silence of the room as he removed the dress from my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor.


	6. Chapter 6

Sybil called around ten Sunday morning.

"Are you alone?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm alone. Why?"

"So he left early this morning?"

"No, Sybil, he didn't leave early this morning. He left late last night."

"How late?"

"Late."

"Well, Love, I want all the delicious details, so meet me for a late lunch."

XXXXX

Sybil and I met at our favorite sandwich shoppe. As soon as we had ordered our drinks, she said, "Spill. Every luscious detail."

I didn't give her _every detail, _but I did tell her all about the argument over _Cassandra Carrington, _Frank's reluctance to continue with our dinner plans, and the quite pleasant end to the evening.

"So you never had dinner?" she asked.

"Actually, we did. Afterward. Frank prepared omelets for us."

"Frank Reagan in the kitchen? I can't imagine that."

"I know. He was surprisingly relaxed, comfortable in the kitchen. And his omelets were delicious."

I showed her a photo on my phone that I had snapped of him in the kitchen, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, pink apron tied around his waist.

"That, darling, is priceless! So, the little runt son snitched on you, huh?"

"Sybil! Jamie isn't a runt." I paused as the waiter arrived with our wine, removing my phone from the table so he wouldn't see the photo of Frank that was still on the screen. Once he sat the drinks on the table and left, I continued. "Jamie's short, certainly compared to Frank, but he's cute. He _and _his female partner. And there was nothing to_ snitch_ on. I wasn't hiding anything from Frank."

"Well, I can understand Frank's hesitance at going public with you. He can't afford any gossip. That nasty press would salivate at the slightest opportunity to make problems for Police Commissioner Frank Reagan. And, Nicole, you do write such nasty little naughties in those books," she teased. "I just devour each one the minute it's hot off the press."

"You'd better get used to that _nasty _press, Sybil, if Anthony decides to run for mayor."

"Rubbish! I can handle them. I'll chew them up and spit them out."

I knew she could. I knew Frank could as well. I had seen him do it numerous times. But I understood why he wouldn't want to create the need unnecessarily, why he wouldn't want the distraction from the important issues of New York City.

"So _is_ Anthony going to run?"

"Of course he is, darling. But keep that little tidbit to yourself for now."

"You the wife of the mayor of New York City. How fun is that going to be!"

"Absolutely scandalous, dear. You'll want to base your next novel on it."

We had a good laugh, and then we signaled the waiter that we were ready to order.

XXXXX

Frank called that evening at the usual bedtime.

"How was the family dinner today?" I asked.

"Good. Not too many family disputes. So how was your day, Nicole?"

I told him about my lunch with Sybil. I didn't mention our conversation, and I didn't mention her _tidbit _of information, though I knew Frank would be quite interested in knowing. If anything about me — or our involvement — had come up during the family dinner conversation, Frank kept it to himself.

While tidying my kitchen and preparing the coffee maker to come on at six the next morning, I thought of Jamie and Eddie. _Would their knowledge of Frank and me turn into locker room gossip? _I wondered. I knew Jaime wouldn't disrespect his dad that in that manner, but would Officer Janko? I doubted she would either. She was Jamie's partner, and whether or not she respected her department and the police commissioner, I was convinced she had feelings for Jamie that went beyond the normal partner bond. Same for Jamie. I could see it their eyes when they looked at each other, I could hear it in their voices during their teasing. It was there, the only question was, had they acknowledged it, to each other, or even to themselves? Somehow, I didn't think they had.

XXXXX

The doorbell rang shortly after eight Monday morning. I wasn't expecting anyone, and certainly wasn't expecting the person I saw standing on my front porch when I opened the door. It took me a few seconds to recognize her, but I knew who she was. She made the news almost as often as her father.

"Ms. Richardson?" she asked.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to bother you so early. We haven't met before but I'm —"

"I know who you are. Erin Reagan, Assistant DA."

"Yes, but I'm not here in that capacity. Could we talk?"

I invited her in, but I didn't invite her to sit. The tone of her voice and the serious expression on her face made it clear that this was not a social visit, she had not come to welcome me to the Reagan family.

"So why _are_ you here, Ms. Reagan?"

"I would think that would be obvious. I'm here to talk about you. And my dad. I understand the two of you have spent time together recently. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

She was sounding more like an assistant DA than a daughter. I felt I was on trial for something.

"I read one of your novels last night. It's certainly _not_ my taste in reading, but I could see why some women might enjoy it. You are an excellent writer, for what you write, I'll give you that."

I wasn't sure if that was actually a compliment, but I chose to take it as one.

"Thank you, but I don't believe you stopped by to review my work."

"No, I didn't. My father is a good man, Ms. Richardson, and an important man with the city of New York. I would hate to see him used or embarrassed in any way."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. What are you trying to say?"

"An affair with the New York City Police Commissioner would make a fabulous story for one of your novels."

"Would it?"

"We both know it would. Jamie said you were a very attractive woman, and I see that he was right. I can see why my dad would be interested. I just hope, Ms. Richardson, that your motives are sincere, that it isn't your intention to use him, or any involvement you might have with him, to write your novels. _Or_ to sell them."

"Ms. Reagan, with all due respect, you don't seem to have a very high opinion of your father."

"That's not true! Why would you even say such a thing?"

"Two reasons. You've insinuated that a woman would only be interested in him if she had something to gain from it, and you also seem to think that he could easily be duped by a pretty face."

"I don't think that at all, you're twisting my words, Ms. Richardson. My father would be a great catch for any woman. She'd be lucky to have him."

"I agree. You've made your point, Ms. Reagan. Now if you don't mind, I have work to do, and I assume you do as well."

"Yes, I do."

She started to leave, then turned, "Ms. Richardson, I would prefer to keep my visit and this conversation between the two of us."

"I assure you, Ms. Reagan, Frank won't hear about it from me."

"Thank you."

I closed the door behind her, leaning my back against it. I took a deep breath, then made my way to the kitchen, where I poured a fresh cup of coffee. Grabbing a danish, I carried it and the coffee into my study, and continued typing where I had stopped at the chiming of the doorbell.

XXXXX

I stayed at my computer throughout the afternoon, but I had a difficult time staying focused. I couldn't stop thinking of Erin, and her visit. I wanted to be upset with her; I wanted to not like her. She had no right coming to my home uninvited and unannounced. But I understood her concern for her dad, and her need to protect him. I was curious which of my eight novels she had read. I had little doubt she had chosen _A Scandal in Washington._

I couldn't fault Erin Reagan for wanting to protect her father. And she reminded me so much of Frank, how could I _not _like her.


	7. Chapter 7

I was disappointed — and a tad concerned — when I didn't get the usual bedtime call from Frank Monday night. All had seemed perfect during his call the night before._ Had something changed? _I told myself I was overreacting, that there were numerous reasons he might not call, but it didn't ease my mind. _Did it have something to do with Erin's visit? _No matter how much I tried to brush off that confrontation, I couldn't help feeling troubled by it. I never expected to become _best buds_ with Frank's children, but I had no desire to be their enemy either. I obviously hadn't scored points with either Jaime or Erin. Jamie believed I was hiding my identity from Frank, Erin believed I was using him. The only one left was Danny. I halfway expected him to show up at my front door with handcuffs, arresting me for conspiracy to invade the department.

Too wound up to sleep, I tried to read, but couldn't concentrate on the words, reading the same paragraph over and over. I tossed the book down on the coffee table, and clicked on the television for mindless entertainment. Surfing through the channels, I settled on an old repeat of _Frasier, _passing on anything that involved attorneys or policemen_. _I jumped when my phone rang half an hour later.

"I didn't expect to hear from you tonight. You're up late."

"I am. I got involved in some light reading. Just finished."

"So what were you reading that had you so engrossed that it kept you up past your bedtime? _War and_ _Peace_?"

"Hardly. No, as a matter of fact, it was a piece of fiction titled _High Risk_. It was recommended as the author's best work."

"Frank! Seriously?"

"Seriously what? That that's what I was reading or that it was recommended as your best?"

"I can't believe you actually read one of my _slutty _novels. I'm so touched."

"You were right. I make a point to not judge without the facts, and I did just that with you, and your novels."

"Yes, you did. So, what's the verdict? Is it trash?"

"Well, it's certainly not what I would normally read, and definitely not something I would want my granddaughter to read, but it was entertaining. I can see the appeal. It's well written. I like your style. But then you already knew that."

I smiled to myself at his last comment. I saw no need to inform him that if Nicky hadn't read it, or something similar, she would. Most college girls did.

"So it's not trash?"

"No. Now, s_teamy? _That might be an understatement."

"Thank you, Frank, for the compliments, _and_ for taking the time to read it."

"You're welcome, Nicole."

"So, who recommended it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Frank, tell me."

"You don't reveal your readers, and I don't reveal my sources."

"Tell me, Frank. I have a picture of you in a pink apron, remember?"

"Yeah, about that photo. I can't believe I allowed you to take it."

"Well, let's just say I caught you in a weak moment."

"That you did." Frank paused, and then continued, "I would not be pleased to find it in the morning newspaper or on the Internet."

"Don't worry, Frank. You're safe. I won't share it with anyone."

"Good to know."

"So, who's my fan? I bet it's Garrett."

"That would be information I would not want to know."

"Detective Baker, then."

"You didn't hear that from me."

"She's right. That one is my best. I'm curious how my novels came up with Ms. Baker."

"I simply asked her if she was familiar with a fiction writer by the name of Cassandra Carrington. She said she had heard of her. I asked if it were possible for her to get a copy of one of Ms. Carrington's books, she asked why. I told her research. She looked at me puzzledly, and then said she would see what she could do. The next morning she brought the book into my office, and said, "This is my favorite, sir."

"But you didn't tell her about us?"

"No. I prefer to keep my private life just that, private. What I do, and who I spend time with is of no concern to anyone else, including Detective Baker, as long as it doesn't effect the department, or my job performance. If my photo shows up on the front page of the morning news, I want it concerning affairs of the New York Police Department, and no other."

"I understand that, Frank."

"Good. Now, I'm going to bed. You, and _Rachael_ and _Jason_, or whatever their names were, have kept me up way past my bedtime. Goodnight, Nicole."

"Goodnight, Frank."

XXXXX

The week was a busy one for Frank, and he only stopped by for a drink once.

Saturday morning Sybil and I jogged in the park, passing Frank and Garrett during our cool-down walk. They didn't stop to chat. Frank simply smiled, said _good morning, Ladies_, and continued on.

Sybil and I both replied, "Good morning, Commissioner."

I didn't mind that he didn't stop. His smile — his eyes — had said he was glad to see me. That was enough.

Within a few minutes of passing Frank and Garrett, we came upon Jaime and Eddie. They were standing on the grass just off the path, both involved in vigorous stretching. Their panicked expressions when they saw us were amusing. I halfway expected them to take off running the other way.

"Good morning, ma'ams," Jamie greeted, breaking the awkward silence.

"Good morning, Jamie. Miss Janko."

"Ummm... my dad and Garrett just passed a few minutes ago if you're looking for him."

"I know. I saw him," I replied, smiling. And then unable to resist, I turned to Eddie and said, "Miss Janko, I understand you've read one of my books."

Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped.

Quickly coming to her defensive, Jamie replied, "Ma'am, we're sorry. We didn't mean to cause any problems—"

"It's quite fine, Jamie. You didn't. No harm done."

"Good, I'm glad," he said, nodding his head.

"Well, we're keeping you two from your run. Have a good day."

"You, too, ma'am."

Sybil and I continued on our way. If Miss Janko made comments to Jamie, she did it quietly this time.

"That was absolutely delicious!" Sybil said.

I smiled, though I suddenly regretted having put the lovely Miss Janko on the spot as I had.

XXXXX

Frank and I had been invited to dinner at the Rosenni's. Just the four of us. Frank surprisingly offered to pick me up. I had expected him to suggest we meet there. He arrived exactly on time. I wasn't quite ready. He poured himself a drink while he waited.

"I had an interesting conversation this morning with Garrett after you and Sybil passed by in the park," Frank said, loud enough for me to hear from the bedroom.

"Oh, yeah? What was that?" I asked, returning to the living room carrying my shoes.

"He asked if there was anything going on that he should know about."

Holding on to the back of a chair with one hand while slipping on a heel with the other, I asked, "And you said?"

"I said _no_, and he said _good, see that you keep it that way_, and I said _I __intend to_, and he said _good_, because Garrett always has to have the last word."

Laughing, I replied, "I'm pretty sure Frank Reagan is the one who has to have the last word."

"As it should be. I am the boss."

I could just imagine Frank and Garrett in the office, going round and round, each one determined to have the last word.

"Yes, you are!" I teased, putting my arms around his waist. His kiss was soft, sweet. I found myself wanting more. I could tell he did as well. Pushing back from him, I said, "We are going to be late!"

"Speaking of being the boss — the Commissioner," I said as I went around turning off lights, "is it not a conflict of interest to have dinner with Anthony Rosseni?"

I was fully aware that the Police Commissioner of New York City _served at the pleasure of the Mayor._

"At the moment Anthony Rosseni is a Manhattan businessman. I see no reason why I shouldn't enjoy the pleasure of his and his lovely wife's company. The moment he officially declares his intention to run for the Mayor of New York City, against the present mayor — should he do so — it becomes a conflict of interest."

"I see."

"So, any hints on that? You and Sybil seem close enough that you would be one of the first to know."

"My lips are sealed."

Setting his empty glass on the bar, and pulling me into his arms, he replied, "Then allow me to unseal them."

"Frank! We're going to be late."

"Yes, we are. By the way, you look incredible in that dress. I believe I've seen it once before," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, you have. I paid a fortune for this thing. I can't afford to just let it hang in my closet, no matter how incredibly uncomfortable it is," I replied, squirming and tugging at it around my hips."

"I will never understand why you women wear the most uncomfortable clothing and shoes."

"And you men don't?" I tugged at his tie.

"I find nothing uncomfortable about my tie."

"If you say so. You really don't know why we dress the way we do?"

"No, I don't. Enlighten me."

"To impress you men, of course."

"Well, then let me go on record having said, once again, I'm impressed. Off the record, let me just say I'm looking forward to the evening ending soon, and ending the same way it did the first time you wore that dress."

"So am I."

"We _could _start the evening the same way we end it. Think Sybil would mind if we were a bit late?"

"I think she would consider it _absolutely scandalous_!"


	8. Chapter 8

Two days after our dinner with the Rosseni's, Frank and I received separate formal invitations from them. While it had not been mentioned during the evening, at least that I was aware of, Anthony and Sybil had planned a huge, extravagant party for Saturday evening. According to Sybil during a casual lunch at our regular sandwich shoppe Tuesday morning, the guest list was huge and included _all the right people_, including members of the press. The rumor had begun spreading early Monday afternoon that Anthony would use the evening, and the presence of reporters, to declare his intent to run for the mayor of New York City. When I questioned Sybil on it, she confirmed the rumor. I wondered, but didn't ask, if the party had been her idea or Anthony's. I suspected hers. No simple statement to the press or announcement on the cable news networks or some late night talk show would do. Frank respectfully declined his invitation. When I asked him if it would be best for me to decline as well, he replied, "Why would you do that? You're Sybil's best friend. Of course you'll be there." He added that he would look forward to hearing all about it the next day. I was relieved. I wanted to be there to share the excitement with my dear friend, and I knew she would want me there.

XXXXX

The party was overwhelming. The Rosenni's had spared nothing, hiring the best catering service in Manhattan. Halfway through the evening Anthony did indeed —with Sybil by his side, towering over him in her three-inch heels — announce that he would be running for mayor. Following his announcement balloons and confetti rained from the ceiling as waiters carried trays of filled champagne glasses around the huge ballroom. The evening smacked of victory celebration, and I wondered how the press, and the general public, would perceive such fanfare.

"They'll see it — they'll see Anthony — as a determined leader, as a man confident in himself, what he believes in, and his ability to win. It says _Vote for Anthony Rosenni and you will be on the winning side," _Sybil insisted.

I hoped Sybil was right, for her and Anthony's sake, as well as Frank's. There was little doubt Anthony had tremendous respect and admiration for Frank and his dedication to the NYPD, as well as the city of New York and it's citizens. A victory for Anthony Rosenni assured Frank's continued appointment as Commissioner; a reelection for the sitting mayor offered no such assurance. Frank and Anthony enjoyed each other's company during our Saturday evening dinner together the week before, the two even excusing themselves after dessert for a cigar and brandy on the patio for over an hour. Sybil hated cigars, found both the habit and the odor _ghastly, _forbidding their use in her home, insisting they were so _Monica. _While I found the image her comparison evoked disgusting_, _I rather liked the smell of a good cigar, and had enjoyed the one time Frank had lit one in my presence. On the way home that evening, Frank confessed that he would be pleased to serve as Police Commissioner under Anthony Rosseni, that they shared similar interest, concern, and vision for New York City and its police force.

XXXXX

Having enjoyed a bit too much champagne in my celebration with Sybil, I woke late Sunday morning with a slight hangover, and was just having my first cup of coffee while reading the morning's headline of the _New York Post_ when Frank called.

_"_Good morning," I said.

"Good morning to you. How are you this morning?"

"Not great. I have a bit of a headache."

"Too much Champagne? I see you made the front page of the morning news without my help."

"Seems I did."

The headlines of the paper read — _Lavish Celebration as Anthony Rosenni Throws His Hat Into the Ring for Mayor_. A short article followed the headlines, as well as photos from the evening. I was in one photo with Sybil. We were each holding a glass of champagne in one hand while exchanging high fives with the other. The caption under the photo read — _Sybil Rosseni celebrates her husband's announcement with fellow supporter. _

Frank's comment troubled me. _Had he said it in jest, or did he honestly believe I had a desire to make the front page of the morning news?_

_"_It's a great photo of both of you and Sybil. You look beautiful, as always. New dress?"

"No. Just an old one I pulled out from the back of the closet. I knew no one I cared to impress would be in attendance."

"Good to know."

XXXXX

Several days later Frank called shortly after five in the afternoon. It was the strangest call, leaving me totally baffled. He said he needed me at headquarters, that he could say no more, but would explain later. He said he was sending a car to pick me up. The tone of his voice was serious, matter-of-fact.

I couldn't imagine what was going on, but doubted he had planned a surprise romantic dinner in his office for the two of us. Confused, but trusting Frank, I did as he asked, though I couldn't help but feel it hadn't actually been a request, but more of an order. Fifteen minutes later I stepped outside my home expecting to find a dark SUV parked in front of it. Instead of the SUV, a black and white squad car pulled up at that moment. A plump, middle-aged officer stepped out of the car.

"You by any chance Ms. Nicole Richardson?"

"I am."

"I'm Officer Ferguson, ma'am. I have orders to escort you downtown."

_What the hell, Frank?_

"May I ask why?"

"I have no idea, ma'am. I'm just following orders. Please," he said as he opened the back door of the squad car and motioned for me to get in.

"Watch your head, ma'am," he said, as I stepped inside. "Don't forget to buckle up."

"Nice day, isn't it," he said in an attempt at conversation, glancing at me through the rear view mirror.

I had been dressed in faded jeans and a sweatshirt when Frank called. I quickly changed into a knee length black pencil skirt; white button-down, long-sleeved dressy blouse with pointed collar and French cuffs; and two-inch black pumps. I had grabbed a light weight jacket on my way out. _What did one wear when summoned to headquarters by the Commissioner himself?_

I tugged at the hem of my skirt, suddenly wishing I had chosen a longer one. Chilled, I regretted not slipping on the jacket before getting in the car. I dared not remove my seat belt long enough to slip it on, so I draped it over the front of me, holding it in place at the shoulders with my arms across my chest inside the jacket.

"It _was_." I replied.

"Cold, ma'am?"

"I'm fine, thank you, Officer."

We were both silent for the remainder of the drive.

Once there, I slipped the jacket on as Officer Ferguson escorted me into the building, where he turned me over to a tall, well-dressed gentleman in his early forties. The suited man whispered _She's on her way up_ to no one present as he ushered me into an elevator, pushing the button for the fourteenth floor as the doors closed.

_What, no "the package is in the mail" or some other code phrase?_

When the doors opened, we were met by a young, attractive woman. Her blond hair was twisted in a smooth bun, her tailored black two-piece suit fit perfectly, her posture equaled that perfection. Her makeup was flawless, including the outline of her full, light pink lips. Her skirt appeared freshly pressed; the hemline hit just below the knees. I immediately tugged at mine, again regretting my choice. I recognized the beautiful woman at once as Detective Baker.

"This way, Ms. Richardson. The Commissioner's waiting for you."

She offered no hint of recognizing me as _Cassandra Carrington_. I followed her a short way down the long hall, where she stopped at a closed door. She knocked once, then opened the door, where she remained standing with the door open for me to enter.

I stepped just inside the small conference room, where four men sat at the long table that seated ten. Frank was seated at the head of the table facing the door, two of the men sat on one side of the table, the other sat alone on the opposite side. Frank stood as I entered the room, the other three followed suit. I immediately recognized one of them as Garrett Moore, the other two had familiar faces, but I didn't place them immediately.

"Will there be anything else, Sir?" Detective Baker asked.

"No, Baker, that is all for today. Thank you. I will see you in the morning."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

She stepped out of the room, gently closing the door behind her, leaving me standing alone, a frightened fox surrounded by hounds.


	9. Chapter 9

"Thank you for coming on such short notice, Ms. Richardson," Frank said.

_What the hell, Frank?_

"I believe you've met my chief of staff, Garrett Moore, next to him is my Special Assistant Lt. Sidney Gormley, and across the table is Detective Danny Reagan. Each man nodded as he was introduced.

_Ah, finally. The third Reagan offspring. _

_"_I just need to ask you a few questions, Ms. Richardson," Danny said. "It should only take a few minutes."

"O-kay." I was hesitant to agree.

_Why didn't someone — Frank — explain what was going on, why I was here, about to be interrogated by Frank's son? _I reminded myself that Frank had said he would explain later. I had thought he meant when I arrived._ When was later, and was he just going to sit at the other end of the table in silence?_

That's exactly what he did. He sat silent and expressionless, except for an occasional frown and pursing of his lips.

"If you could just have a seat."

Danny pulled out a chair for me as he spoke, the one at the opposite end of the table from Frank. I sat, again tugging at my skirt. The men took their seats as well. I glanced at Frank. I thought I caught a hint of a smile on his face, but if it truly existed, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Soda?" Danny asked.

"I'm fine. Just ask your questions, Detective Reagan."

This time I was sure Frank smiled, for an instant.

"Ok." Danny said, a bit of a smirk on his face. "It's very important, ma'am, that you answer as truthfully as you can."

"Am I under oath?"

"No, but it's important that you tell the truth."

"Ok."

"Are you Nicole Richardson and do you live at this address?" He picked up a sheet of paper from the desk, and read my address from it.

"Yes."

"And could you tell me your whereabouts last Friday evening?"

"I was at home."

"All evening?"

"Yes."

"Were you alone? Was anyone with you that evening?"

I looked from Danny to Frank. He looked straight at me, but offered no direction on how I should answer.

"I was not alone. Commissioner Frank Reagan was there," I said as I stared Danny in the eye, avoiding Frank.

"Do you remember the time the Commissioner was there?"

"Umm, from around eight or so until around midnight. Maybe a little later."

"And the commissioner didn't leave and come back? He was there the whole time?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, Ms. Richardson. Just a few more questions, please. Umm...do you acknowledge that you are involved in a romantic situation with the Commissioner?"

I glanced at Frank once again. He was staring at the table now, his lips pursed.

"Yes."

"And are you also known as Cassandra Carrington?"

"That is my pen name. I write fiction. My books are published under that name."

"Romance novels, correct?" He smirked again.

"Yes."

I wanted to protest all this ridiculous questioning, but I didn't want to make a scene. So I just kept answering Danny's questions, getting more and more agitated with each one. I made no effort to hide that agitation.

"And would you ever use this...involvement...to further your career in any way?"

I glanced at Frank once more; he was looking at me, as if interested in my reply.

"I would not!"

"Ok. Thank you, Ms. Richardson. I appreciate your candor. I had to ask."

"Did you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did."

"Are we done here, Danny?" Frank finally spoke, a bit of annoyance in his voice as well.

"Umm...if I could just have one more moment of your time, Ms. Richardson."

Danny picked up a folder from the table, opened it, pulled out what appeared to be an 8x10 photo. Laying it down on the table in front of me, he asked, "Do you recognize this photo, Ms. Richardson?"

"It appears to be Frank Reagan leaving my home."

He removed the photo of Frank from the table, returned it to the folder, and pulled out a second one, placing it in front of me.

"And how about this one? Do you recognize this woman?"

"Danny!" Frank shouted in obvious protest.

"Commissioner...please..."

Danny and Frank held a stare for several seconds.

"Carry on."

I shuddered at the sight of the woman in the photo. It was a closeup of her face, a face that was totally black and blue, one eye swollen shut, her lips the same. Even with the beaten face, I could tell the woman was young, probably mid twenties, and very beautiful.

"Do you know this woman, Ms. Richardson?"

"I have never seen that poor woman in my life."

"Are you sure?"

"I am _very_ sure, Detective Reagan."

"Just one more thing, ma'am, and then we're done—"

"Now what? I think Ms. Richardson has been put through enough for one evening. Don't you, Detective?"

Ignoring Frank, Danny continued.

"Ms. Richardson, would you be willing to repeat everything you have said here under oath?"

"I would."

"Ok, Ms. Richardson. I think we're done here now. I thank you for your time."

Frank stood, the others followed. I did as well.

"Thank you, Ms. Richardson. Lt. Gormley here will see that you get home safely."

"If it's all the same to you, Commissioner, I believe I'll take a cab. My neighbors saw me leave in a squad car. I prefer they not see me return in one."

Lt. Gormley will see that you return home in an _unmarked_ car, as you _should_ have arrived in."

"Thank you, Commissioner, but I still prefer a cab."

Frank stood silent for a several moments, our eyes locked. Finally he said, "As you wish."

XXXXX

It was well past seven o'clock by the time the cab dropped me off in front of my home. My dear, sweet neighbor, seventy-six year old widowed Alice McMillan, must have been watching out her window for my return. She stepped out onto her front porch seconds after I stepped out and the cab drove off.

"Nicole, dear, is everything okay?"

"Everything is fine, Alice. How are you today?"

"Oh, I'm okay. My arthritis is acting up again."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Anything I can do to help?" I asked as I joined her on her porch.

"Thanks, dear, but I'm fine. Lillian stopped by yesterday, bringing me everything I need."

"That's good. Sorry I missed her."

Lillian was Alice's daughter. She lived in Queens, and checked on Alice once a week, always keeping her cupboards full, and her laundry done.

"Are you sure, dear, you're all right? I was so worried when that policeman took you away. I didn't know what to do. Lillian said I shouldn't concern myself with it."

_Nice. Now half of Queens would know._

"Lillian was right, Alice. You don't need to worry about me, I can take care of myself. It was just a small matter that I needed to clear up. Nothing of concern."

"I know, dear, but I've always worried about you...since Daniel."

"I know you have, but I wish you wouldn't." Noticing her white Persian cat sitting in the window, I used it to change the subject. "How's Mr. Bailey? Looks like he's still eating well."

"Oh, yes, he never misses a meal. He can be such a nuisance at times, but I don't know what I would do without him. You need a cat, dear. They make such wonderful companions."

Alice was always insisting I needed a cat for companionship. I hadn't felt much need for a companion, either four-legged or two. I was content with my life as it was. Until Frank.

"I'll think about it, Alice. Now you need to get back inside. It's chilly this evening."

"Yes, it is dear," she said, pulling the edges of her sweater closer together. "Goodnight, dear."

"Goodnight, Alice. Be sure to lock your door once inside."

"Oh, I will. I always do."

I stayed on Alice's porch until I heard her locks click. Walking across her yard to mine, I wondered if she had ever seen Frank come and go. I doubted she had, she was most likely fast asleep long before he arrived.

XXXXX

It was almost nine by the time Frank called. I had changed into more comfortable clothes, and made myself a sandwich. I ate half of it, tossed the rest in the trash, checked my emails, then poured a glass of wine, and waited, mulling over the events of the evening in my head.

"I'm on my way over."

"Good," I replied, then disconnected the call before he had a chance to say more.

When he arrived, I opened the door for him, then stepped away, not allowing him to greet me with the usual kiss.

He closed the door behind him, then stepped into the living room area. He took his coat off, and laid it neatly across the back of a wing back chair.

"Why did you refuse the ride home, even after I assured you it would be an unmarked car?"

"Because I'd had enough of the NYPD for one day. What was that all about, Frank?"

"Could I have a drink first? It's been a long day."

"Help yourself."

Removing his tie, he said, "Well, clearly you're upset with me."

"You think? You call me saying I need to come to headquarters, but you don't tell me why, and that you're sending a car to pick me up. I walk outside expecting to find an SUV, and find a squad car instead, one where I'm placed in the backseat. The only thing missing were the handcuffs. Then I'm shown to a room where I'm seated at a table with four strange men, all part of the NYPD, and you sit there saying not one word while your son interrogates me. So, yes, you'll just have to excuse me if I'm a bit upset."

"You knew me, and Garrett, and you weren't interrogated."

"Really? Certainly seemed like an interrogation."

"I can explain everything, if you'll just hear me out."

"I'm listening."

"Can I get that drink first?" he asked, pointing to the bar and then heading that way.

"I'll get it."

"I can get it myself. Im not helpless."

"I said I'd get it."

"Fine."

He reached for my arm as I walked passed, pulled me close, and kissed my lips.

"I'm sorry you were put through that, Nicole. But it was necessary."

We sat in the living room once Frank had his drink. He sat on the sofa, waited for me to sit next to him as I normally did. This time I chose the chair.

"Really?"

"Explain, Frank. What was that all about?"

"I'm being blackmailed."

"You're what?"

"You heard me. I'm being blackmailed."

"By who?"

"Blackmailers don't generally sign their names, Nicole."

"Fine. For what then?"

"Sexual assault."

"You've got to be kidding me. That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard."

"Yeah, well, this guy, whoever it is, seems to think he can make it work. He sent the photos Danny showed you, said if I didn't pay the _ridiculous_ amount of money he asked for, the woman would file charges, that I assaulted her last Friday evening around ten."

"That doesn't even make sense. The photo of you leaving here had a stamped time and date of that night. You have an alibi, and he knows that. I don't understand, what am I missing?"

"That's right. He does know where I was that night. He's obviously been following one of us, I assume me. He's aware of our involvement, and he's letting me know that. He believes I'll pay, just to keep it all quiet. You're my alibi, but if I use you, our relationship makes the morning news, along with the assault charge."

"Would that be so horrible, for our relationship to become public?"

"In this instance, if it came out this way, it would be. The press would have a field day with it. The Police Commissioner sneaking around, leaving your house in the darkness of the night. You saw the photo. Looks like I pulled my collar up so I wouldn't be recognized. They won't believe I did that because of the cold night air. The whole mess will be a publicity nightmare for the department. You should have heard Garrett in my office this afternoon. I'm surprised the man didn't have a heart attack the way he laid into me. Not to mention the battle Danny and I had. Like I said. It's been a rough day."

"So, the blackmailer thinks you'll pay, just to prevent all that. But you won't, will you?"

"Of course not. We don't negotiate with terrorists, and we sure as hell don't negotiate with amateur blackmailers. And Danny believes that's what this guy is, an amateur at best. We'll get him soon enough."

Frank took a large sip of his scotch, then continued.

"As soon as I received the blackmail letter, I called Danny in. He insisted he handle it by the book, said it was crucial that you tell him I was here that night on your own, with no heads up or prompting from me. I couldn't say anything, when I called you, or in that room."

"Ok. I understand that. But, most of Danny's questions had nothing to do with establishing your whereabouts that evening and providing you with an alibi. You think I'm the blackmailer, don't you, Frank?"

"I don't think any such thing!"

"But Danny does. That's why he showed me the woman's photo. To see how I would react."

"Danny's thorough. That's what makes him my best detective. He has to consider every possibility." Frank twirled his glass in his hands, looking straight ahead as he spoke.

"And I'm a big possibility."

"To Danny, yes. To me, no. You can't blame him, Nicole."

"I can't? Really, Frank? How's that?"

"Well, you tell me. If all this came out in the news, what do you think would happen to your book sales?"

"There's no question. They would skyrocket."

"Exactly. You know that. I know that. Danny knows that. That's a pretty big motive. Others have done things for less."

"A lot of good it would do me in prison!"

"Assuming you were caught."

"This is ridiculous, Frank."

Noticing the empty glass Frank was still twirling around in his hands, I stood, took it from him, picked up my own wine glass, and walked over to the bar to refill both.

"I'm not using you to write any novels, and I'm not blackmailing you to sell them."

"Good to know," Frank said as I handed him his fresh drink.

Sitting back down in the chair, I said, "You might not think I'm the blackmailer, but you don't totally trust me, do you, Frank?"

"Not completely. No."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be here. I think you should leave."

"Oh, knock it off! I'm here because I want to be here. It is in my best interest, as well as the department's, not to completely trust anyone, and you know that. And I can't let my feelings for someone cloud my judgment, especially someone I haven't known that long. I'm just trying to be honest with you, Nicole."

"Good. Then let's be honest. I'm not the only one here with something to gain from this relationship."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"You have plenty to gain yourself. Actually, you already have."

"How so?"

"Anthony Rosenni, and my friendship with Sybil."

"You think I'm using you to get close to Rosenni?"

"Why shouldn't I think that?"

"Because I don't use people that way! And I don't need you, or anyone else, to secure my position as Police Commissioner of New York City! I'm quite capable of doing that on my own. And if I'm not, then I don't deserve the job, and I would need to step down."

"And I don't need _you, _or anyone else, to write my novels, or to sell them. I am quite capable of doing it on my own!"

Frank took a deep breath, then said, "Fine. You've made your point."

"Good!"

"Good," he repeated in an effort to have the last word.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, each sipping on our drinks.

I finally broke the silence.

"I might stand to gain from all this coming out in public, Frank, but I would stand to lose something much more important to me than book sales."

"And what would that be, Nicole?" Frank asked, staring into his glass.

"You."


	10. Chapter 10

Too wound up after Frank left late, I turned on the television, channel surfing through repeats of cop shows, old movies, and cable news until finally settling on a repeat of_ The Golden Girls_. I always enjoyed the character of Blanche Devereaux, the Southern belle, man-hungry drama queen, and had often thought of creating a younger version of her for one of my novels. Perhaps the next one, if I ever finished the one I was working on now. I had to finish it soon. My agent, Kerri, had been hounding me for days. Since meeting Frank, I'd had a difficult time concentrating on my leading man in the story, my mind often drifting to thoughts of Frank.

I tried to concentrate on Frank now, and the way he had taken me in his arms after I confessed his importance to me. He hadn't done it immediately; instead, he had remained silent for what seemed like an eternity, as if he were weighing the sincerity of my words. Finally, he had stood, reached out for me, pulling me close. His kiss was gentle, but passionate. He made love to me in the bedroom with that same gentle passion. It felt different than the other times; as though it was now more special, more meaningful. He didn't express his feeling for me in any words, but the way he held me, kissed me, made love to me, left little doubt that his feeling for me were as strong as mine were for him. Afterward he held me in his arms, silent, as if deep in thought, much on his mind. I thought he might stay through the night this time, and was disappointed when he didn't. For the first time in years, I found my bed lonely without someone next to me. Even more, I felt safe with him there. The thought of an unknown blackmailer, some unknown face, watching my home, even photographing my home, late at night sent chills down my spine. As much as I tried to concentrate on Frank, I couldn't shake the image of that poor woman in the photo Danny had placed in front of me to identify. Her beaten and swollen face haunted me. I wondered who she was, where she was, and how her face might heal from such a beating. How would her spirit heal? Her soul? I had no tolerance for such violence as rape, child or spousal abuse, or animal cruelty, and never included them in my novels. My leading men might cause much emotional pain in the way of broken hearts, but never physical pain. I left those stories to the likes of the late Belva Plain, who had always handled these topics with the skill and sensitivity I could never.

_Who had done something so brutal to this young, beautiful woman?_ I knew Frank had not done that to her, but someone had. _Had it been the blackmailer himself? Who was this man, and how had he known about Frank and me?_

The last time I remembered looking at the digital alarm clock next to my bed, it had read 2:13. When I woke it said 8:10. The television was still on, but had gone to sleep itself. Realizing how late I had slept, and how I meant to be at my computer by seven, I flew out of bed and scurried to the kitchen to start the coffee brewing, and then back to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I thought about Frank. It was Friday, he would be in his office by now. I thought about the blackmailer, and couldn't resist peeking out the front window, seeing only an occasional car passing by, the usual morning walkers/joggers, nothing out of the ordinary. I powered on my computer, poured my first cup of coffee, and sat in front of the now-awake computer, logged in, and began typing.

Kerri called shortly after nine.

"I hope you're at your desk this morning, working on your manuscript."

"I am. Been working on it all morning."

"You're late getting it to me. That is so not you, Nicole. You're normally ahead of schedule. If I didn't know better, I'd say you have a man in your life." She paused, then asked, "Do you?"

"Kerri, you know If I did, you'd be the first to know."

"No, Sybil would be the first to know. I would be second."

I had introduced the two women early on. The three of us had met for lunch, and an occasional girls' night out, numerous times.

"Very true," I said.

"Well, someone or something seems to be keeping you from that keyboard."

"At the moment, _you_," I teased.

"Touché," she replied. "I'm saying goodbye now. Put the phone down and type."

Kerri was right. Sybil knew already, and Kerri _would_ be the next to know, if I ever felt that I could share such information with anyone other than Sybil. I had to admit I was somewhat enjoying the romance and intrigue of a secret affair with the Police Commissioner of New York City, but I also longed to share it with others. After all, how many other women could brag that they were spending their evenings with Police Commissioner Frank Reagan. Rumor was that a well known magazine had approached him at one time, wanting to do a feature on him as one of New York City's hottest men. He had refused, the rumors said, that the idea didn't appeal to him, that he didn't have time for such nonsense. But Frank found time for me. The thought of that made me smile as I did as I had been told. I typed. I typed until after four in the afternoon, only taking a break to prepare a ham sandwich for lunch, which I ate at my desk. My neck and shoulders acheding from sitting for so long, I decided to go for a jog, my normal five-mile route — two and a half miles out, two and a half back.

Throughout my jog, I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched. When I finished the run, I scanned the neighborhood before heading inside and locking my door, seeing nothing and no one out of the ordinary. I tried to convince myself that it was just my overactive imagination, but I rushed through my shower, turning my back to the glass door no more than necessary.

XXXXX

I was drying the last dish from my dinner when Alice called shortly before eight.

"Mr. Bailey has been a bad boy again, Nicole. Could you help me?"

I knew that meant that her cat had slipped out the front door once again, and that she needed help finding him. It was a regular occurrence, and he was usually found relaxing under some neighbor's shrubs. I grabbed a flashlight, as the evening was falling into darkness, and headed out to help her. Alice was dressed for bed, the ruffle of her long, white cotton nightgown peeked out below the shorter baby blue flannel robe. Matching espadrille slippers covered her dainty little feet.

"You stay on the porch, Alice, I'll find him." And I did, two houses down, just chilling under a thick hedge of boxwoods, dead mouse by his side. No doubt he would have eventually returned home with it in his mouth. Much to Alice's dismay, he often brought his trophies home to share. I reached in and pulled him out by the scruff of the neck.

"You bad boy," I said, as I held him in my arms and petted him. He purred, unaware that he was being scolded. At that moment I happened to glance across the street. A dark colored - either black or navy - older model Ford sedan was parked. A man sat in the driver's side. A nearby street lamp shone on his face. I guessed him to be in his late fifties. He was watching me while talking on a cell phone. He looked away when our eyes met.

Totally unnerved by his presence, I headed back to Alice with Mr. Bailey. I wanted to run, but didn't want the man to think I was frightened, or to cause the cat to jump out of my arms, so I made myself walk, but my steps were hurried, my heart pounding.

"Here's Mr. Bailey, Alice. Now you need to get inside with him, and lock your door. And stay inside. Call me if you need anything." I looked back toward the man in the car. He was still watching me. I hurried Alice inside, and then raced back into my own house, making sure to lock my door as well. I peeked out the window in time to see him drive away.

_Was it the blackmailer? Was he that brazen to come back the night after sending his blackmail letter? And for what purpose?_

I considered calling Frank, but knew it would be useless. Same with dialing 911. The man had driven off, nothing Frank or a patrol officer could do. Besides, it wasn't against the law to sit in a parked car. I knew Frank had evening plans of dinner and a Broadway play with his dad. I didn't want to interrupt his time with his family.

Frank called around eleven, said he just wanted to check on me before heading to bed. I told him I was fine, except for getting a bit spooked earlier in the evening by a man sitting in a parked car.

"Yes, Nicole. He watched you retrieve your neighbor's cat."

My jaw dropped.

"How do you know that, Frank?"

'Because he's one of mine. Or was at one time. His name is Harry Williamson. He retired from the force a few years ago. I hire him on occasion for private matters."

"So you hired him to watch me? Why, Frank?"

"Because there's a blackmailer out there, Nicole."

"God, Frank. You should have told me. I've been freaking out all day."

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to worry you. I didn't think you'd notice him. Harry must be missing a step these days."

"You don't really think the blackmailer will come back do you? Surely he's smart enough to know that you would be watching for him. This Harry guy, he followed me while I was out jogging this afternoon, didn't he?"

"Yes, he did. He was impressed, by the way. Said you moved pretty fast, and that you had nice legs. I agreed with both. He wanted to know if you were available. I told him that, according to Danny, you were _involved in a romantic situation. _He said _lucky dude_. I agreed again."

His words made me smile. For a moment.

"Why do you think I need to be watched in the middle of the day? What's up, Frank?"

"Nothing is up. Just being cautious, that's all."

"Frank. There's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

I heard him sigh.

"You just won't leave things alone, will you Nicole?"

"No, not when I think you're keeping something from me. Spill it."

Another sigh from the other end of the phone.

"The blackmailer called Danny this afternoon at the precinct, using a burn phone, of course. Which he tossed in a trash can. We found it later. No fingerprints, wiped clean. He asked Danny if I had his money ready. Danny told him I wasn't going to pay, that the only thing he was going to get was a prison cell. He told Danny that was a bad idea, and for him to tell his dear old dad that if he didn't pay,_ she_ would."

I shivered as a huge chill ran down my spine.

"I immediately called Harry, he's been watching you since. He will continue to keep an eye on your house throughout the night. Stay inside, Nicole. Don't go chasing after cats, or anything else."

"That's a long shift. Should I take him a thermos of coffee?"

I immediately had visions of finding Harry dead, body slumped over the steering wheel, face covered in blood.

"No. I assure you, Harry has a full thermos of coffee. And a full bag of donuts. He's good. I have an idea, Nicole, where I can offer you twenty-four-hour protection without someone sitting outside your house. I have a cabin in the Catskills. It's about a three hour drive. I thought we might head up there early in the morning, spend the weekend. I could use some time away, and you and I don't get to spend that much time together. Just relax and do some fishing."

"Why Frank Reagan, or you suggesting a dirty weekend?"

"I am suggesting no such thing! I don't even know what that is! I'm suggesting we go fishing, nothing more!"

"It's sounds wonderful, Frank, but I wouldn't be comfortable going away and leaving Alice alone. I would worry about her out after dark hunting for her cat." I pictured her out searching for Mr. Bailey in her blue robe and slippers, only to find his lifeless bloodied body on my porch, his throat slashed. And a faceless man slipping inside her unlocked house while she mourned the lose of her beloved pet.

"I don't think the blackmailer is going to bother your elderly neighbor, but if it will help, I'll have Harry watch your house and hers tomorrow night. I think I would feel better myself knowing your house is safe while you're gone."

"Then I'd love to go, Frank, as long as you promise more than just fishing."

"I'll promise you anything you want, Nicole. I'll pick you up at five in the morning. Pack warm and comfortable clothing. Leave the three-inch heels at home, you'll have no need for them."

"Five am! You've got to be kidding."

"You know what they say, the early bird catches the worm."

"I thought we were going to catch fish, not worms."

"Ha!Ha! Very funny, Nicole. Get packed, and go to bed. And don't be taking Harry any coffee or anything else."

Smiling, I said, "Goodnight, Frank. Oh, and Frank please have Harry mail his bill to me for tomorrow night's service."

"I can handle it, Nicole. The city pays me well."

"Oh, we do, huh?"

"Yes, you do. Goodnight, Nicole."

I turned out the lights, and headed to the bedroom to pack, after peeking out the window one more time for Harry. No sign of him, or anyone else. I assured myself Harry was out there somewhere, alive. I suddenly wished the beige shears covering the window were made of a much heavier fabric.

And I really did need to stop watching _Criminal Minds_!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N — I promised at least of few of you that the next chapter — this one — would be fun. But, after watching episode 7 of season 1 titled "Brothers", the episode where Frank hands his SS over to Jaime, I got carried away with sentiment****. I enjoyed writing the following conversation between Frank and Nicole during their drive to the lake. I hope you are not too bored by it. Next chapter — action and some fun!**

Frank arrived at exactly five o'clock. I was up, and ready, but can't quite say I was awake. I had time for only one cup of coffee, and that was just not enough to get my morning going. I had packed and showered before heading to bed, so that I could sleep in as long as possible. Excited about a weekend trip with Frank, I'd had a restless night, waking up with dark circles under my eyes to show for it.

"Good morning!" Frank greeted me with a huge smile, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

"I'll let you know once it is morning."

"Come on, Nicole, you've got to love the early morning, just before the sun rises, when the air is crisp and quiet," he replied, still smiling, as he reached for my bag. "Pretty heavy for one night."

The air felt unusually chilly for the first of June. Or perhaps not, I really couldn't say, normally still snuggled in my warm, comfortable bed at this hour. Rain was in the forecast. The shrill cry of sirens could be heard a few blocks away. But then, sirens were an on-going noise in New York City, always an emergency somewhere, so one did tend to give little thought to it, even as Police Commissioner, it seemed.

"Sorry, I never mastered the art of packing light. So, Frank Reagan actually does own clothing other than starched white shirts, ties, and three-piece suits. I'm impressed. Plaid. That's a look I wouldn't have guessed."

"I like plaid," Frank replied. Wear it all the time."

"Well, you wear it well."

I hadn't recognized Frank when I peeked out my window and noticed him talking to Harry, who was parked across the street, one house down from mine. Only after he shook hands with Harry, and then turned and walked toward my house as Harry drove off, did I realize it was him. He was dressed in a red plaid shirt, beige corduroy pants, and beige fisherman jacket, with matching cap. I was wearing faded jeans; soft pink turtleneck knit sweater; and white tennis shoes; my hair was twisted up off my neck and secured with a large silver flower barrette outlined with rose quartz gemstones; hooded, water-proof jacket draped over one arm. Standing next to Frank in such flat shoes, I felt like a young child. He towered over me with the extra thick soles of his brown, laced boots added to his already 6'4" frame.

I glanced over at Alice's house. All quite, dark except for the one light I knew she always left on during the night. I assumed it had been a quiet night for Harry, wondered if he had actually managed to stay awake. Surely he would have dozed at times. I made a mental note to call Alice later in the morning, just to be sure.

I hadn't recognized Frank at first glance, and I sure didn't recognize the vehicle parked in front of my house.

"So where's your usual _detail_ in the black SUV?" I asked as Frank lifted the heavy lid of a large metal box that ran the full width of the bed of blue Chevelot pickup, and only inches shorter in height, adding my bag next to his much smaller bag already stored inside.

Closing the lid of the box and opening the passenger side door for me, Frank said, "I gave them the weekend off," and then he closed my door and walked around to the other side.

As he climbed inside, I said, "Well, I'm sure they appreciated that." I appreciated it as well, but didn't offer that information. I had not looked forward to a three-hour trip in the backseat with Frank, and two_ guards _in the front, listening to our every word. It had been strange and uncomfortable the evening of the Rosseni's dinner, and that had been a short drive.

"This is interesting," I continued, taking in the interior of the pickup. It was obviously an older model, but it was in mint condition, as if brand new. "I would have tagged you as more of a Range Rover kind of guy."

"Nope. Nothing foreign-made for this good ole American boy. Chevy man all the way," he replied as he started the engine and headed north. "Used to own a 1971 Chevy Chevelle Super Sport. My pride and joy. Bought it back before the kids were born. I passed it on to Jamie a few years ago. Still runs like a charm. Joe spent one whole summer restoring it, from the ground up. He worked two jobs that summer just to pay for the parts."

"Sounds like it was pretty special to you. What made you decide to give it to Jamie?"

"Since I became commissioner I had no need for it. They drive me everywhere, as you well know. I kept old Bessie here to take to the lake, but handed the Super Sport over to Jamie. He was thrilled. He loves that car. Takes care of it like it was a brand new Ferrari. It's special to him. Partly, I guess, because it was mine, but even more so, I suspect, because of of the memories of Joe it holds. He and Joe were close, he really misses him. Hell, we all miss him."

Frank's smile had turned sad, his lips had pursed.

"I'm sorry, Frank. Losing a spouse is devastating enough, I can't even imagine the pain of losing a child, regardless of their age. I don't know how a parent even survives that."

"I assure you, it's not easy. It tears your guts out, you lose a part of yourself. But, you don't have a choice. You keep going, for the family you still have."

Wanting to lighten the mood, I said, "Ok. So you're a Chevy man. But a Super Sport? I would think you'd go for the Corvette."

Laughing, Frank said, "Tighter budget back then, one that a Corvette didn't fit into."

Suddenly in a mood to reminiscence myself, I said, "I dated a guy in college my junior year, before Daniel. He drove a bright red ragtop Stingray. God, that was one hot car! I loved it."

"Red ragtop, huh? I think Tim McGraw has a song about you," Frank teased, eyebrows raised.

"Ha! Hardly. I'm familiar with Tim McGraw and that song. I wasn't quite that wild and careless."

"I wasn't insinuating that part of the song, Nicole."

"I know you weren't, Frank. I like the song, it's sweet. And I'm a big Tim McGraw fan. If only this guy had been as hot!"

"So you dated him for his hot car, huh?"

"Well, I will have to admit that the Corvette certainly added to his appeal."

"What happened to this not-so-hot guy with the hot car?"

"I dumped him."

"Broke his heart, huh?"

"Not too badly. He moved on to the next sorority girl pretty quickly."

"You were a sorority girl. Somehow that doesn't surprise me. Was Daniel a frat boy?"

"Oh, yeah. He was in the same fraternity as Mr. Corvette, Jason. I fell madly in love with Daniel the minute I laid eyes on him at a frat party. Daniel was hot! But so was his date, Debbie Downer, I believe was her name. And Daniel only had eyes for her at the time. So I settled for Jason, until Daniel and Debbie split. The moment I heard the news, I dropped Jason, and pursued Daniel like Danny after a perp. The poor guy didn't know what hit him, he didn't stand a chance."

"I can relate to that," Frank said, turning his eyes from the road toward me and smiling. "What hot car did Daniel drive?"

"Oh, Daniel had no problem with foreign-made. Drove nothing but BMW's, right up until the day he died."

"I'm surprised he still owned a car, living right in the middle of the city."

"He didn't for years. He sold his Beemer when he moved here. He went to work for Smith Hamilton Securities right after college. We married six months later. After years of working his way up in the company, and starting to go through early mid-life crisis, he decided he wanted a BMW convertible, something to take long country drives in on Sundays, to get away from the stress and pressures of work. I considered an expensive sports car a much more acceptable mid-life crisis choice than some men made, so I gave him my blessing, especially since he always invited me along for the long drives. We would pack a picnic basket, usually consisting of assorted cheeses, deli meats, breads, and a bottle of wine, and head out with the top down. Certain times of the year, we had to turn the heater on full blast to keep from turning into icicles, but the top was always down."

"I can see you in a convertible, cruising down the highway, wind blowing through your hair. Damn sexy image. I might just have to trade old Bessie here for a red Stingray."

"I like Bessie. I think she's a keeper."

"So do I. So, what happened to the BMW? I assume you sold it."

"Not right away. You know how it all goes, you've been through it with Mary, I'm sure. First you don't move anything of theirs, the shoes left by their chair the night before, their toothbrush on the bathroom counter. You don't get rid of the clothes. I refused for over two years to clean out Daniel's side of the closet. Some of the clothes still smelled of his cologne. I would go in and just touch them, hold them to my face to feel close to him. But, after a while, the scent faded, and they just became clothes, taking up closet space, clothes someone else could be wearing. I remember the day I clean them out. Sybil came over that afternoon and helped me box everything up, then we called Goodwill to come pick it all up. That night we ordered a pizza, opened a bottle of wine, and watched a movie. Our choice, of all movies, was _Ghost,_ with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore. We kept opening bottles of wine as we watched, and cried. I don't recall how many bottles of wine we downed that night, but I know I've never cried so hard in my life. We woke the next morning, afternoon, actually, each of us in our own bedrooms, though neither remembering how we got there, and both sicker than dogs, my eyes so red and swollen I could barely see out of them. We both spent the afternoon hugging the toilet. But afterward I felt better inside, I needed that cry, and it was done. And I still had Daniel's bottle of cologne, when I needed to remember his smell."

"I know what you mean. It's not easy moving on. Took me longer than you to clean out Mary's clothes, about four years. I gave the task to Erin and Linda, Danny's wife. Don't think I could have ever done it myself. I took a long drive that day, couldn't even be in the house while it was going on. And the bottle of perfume. Yeah, every morning. I remember Mary's favorite tearjerker movie, before she got sick._ Love Story._"

"Oh, yes, that's a classic tearjerker. Love it. If you don't boohoo at the end of that one, there's something wrong with you."

"Boohoo Mary did, every time she watched it. I'll never understand why you women willingly put yourselves through such torment."

"Because we're just made that way. The sadder the story, the more we love it."

"Daniel's car. Did it go at the same time?"

"No, I kept it about six or seven months longer. Just couldn't part with it. At first, I would do the Sunday morning drive in it by myself. But I hated driving in city traffic, I was a nervous wreck by the time I got out of the city. So, the weekly drive turned into a monthly drive, and then even less. One Sunday I had just returned from the drive, and was approached by a gentleman as soon as I stepped out of the car. He had the space across from me, said he had noticed that the car rarely left, and wondered if I would be interested in selling it and the space. He made me a great offer, and I took him up on it several days later. I cried for weeks afterward, felt like I had sold a part of Daniel, his soul."

Wanting to change the subject, I asked Frank about the cabin that we were headed to.

"Is this a place you've had for a long time? A place you shared with Mary?"

"No, I bought this place a few years ago. Like your Daniel, needing a place to get away from the pressures of the job. A place where the family could go, get away."

I was pleased that it wasn't a place that Frank had shared with his late wife. I wanted Frank all to myself this weekend, did not want to share him with Mary's ghost, and his memories of her.

Frank and I continued to chat, but the conversation changed to more pleasant things than lost loved ones. I was shocked when he pulled up in front of his cabin, having no idea that three hours had passed.

There was a strange vehicle parked in front of the cabin — a large black Mercedes sedan.

"Looks like someone beat us here," I said.

"Yes, it does," Frank replied, concerned impression taking over his face.

"Who is it?"

"I have no idea. But I'm about to find out."

He reached for his cell phone, hit a number, waited for someone to answer. "This is Commissioner Reagan. I need you to run a plate for me. I'll wait."

He read off the letters on the plate, and continued to stare at the black sedan while he silently waited for the person on the other end to return.

"Are you sure? Ok. Thanks." He disconnected the call, pursing his lips as he glared at the quiet, lifeless cabin.

"So, who is it, Frank?"

"The vehicle is registered to Robert McCoy."

"As in District Attorney Robert McCoy?"

"That would be the one."

"Why would he be here?"

"He wouldn't be here alone, I wouldn't think. Would have to be with a family member. It's not Pop, I left him still in bed, and I doubt it's Jaime or Danny."

My mind was slow to work. I hadn't had enough caffeine, so it took a few moments before it clicked.

"Erin?"

"That would be my guess."

"Oh, my!" I said aloud.

_How delicious! _I thought to myself.


	12. Chapter 12

Frank unbuckled his seat belt, opened his door, and turned to step out of the pickup.

"Frank! What are you doing? Where are you going?"

He stopped, faced me, his left hand holding the door, his right arm resting on the steering wheel. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm going inside."

"You can't do that! They're probably not even awake yet?"

"The hell I can't! Guess they'll wake up soon enough, won't they."

"Frank!"

He inhaled, eyed the cabin, turned his attention back to me. "As you once said to me, as I recall, you have two choices, Nicole. You can either get out of the truck and go in with me, or you can sit out here by yourself." He stepped out, then turned back. "If you choose to stay in the truck, I suggest you keep your door closed, so the bears don't get you." Closing his door, he headed toward the cabin.

_Stay in the truck and miss all the fun?_ No way! I was going in!

I unbuckled my seatbelt, grabbed my handbag, and followed after Frank.

"Bears? You never said anything about bears!"

Standing at the front door of the cabin, Frank reached into a pocket of his pants, pulled out a key, inserted it in the door lock.

"Aren't you going to at least knock first?"

Shaking his head at me, Frank replied, "No! It's _my_ cabin, why would I knock?"

_Poor Erin_, I thought to myself. _This was going to be interesting!_

The security alarm buzzed at the open door. Frank allowed it to buzz a few seconds before punching in the code, preventing it from screaming for help.

The rustic decor of the large open living area revealed more of the man I met this morning, the pickup-driving, plaid-wearing, country music fan Frank Reagan. Built-in bookshelves flanking a massive stone fireplace exhibited the family-oriented, fiction-mystery-reader, outdoorsman side of him, housing a large collection of photos, hardback books, and painted wooden ducks. Mounts of various trophy fish hung on one wall opposite the fireplace. Comfortable leather seating surrounded the fireplace, past that stood a long farmhouse table with matching chairs. Beyond the dining area, french doors leading outside divided large windows. A long covered patio could be seen outside the windows, as well as the beginning of steps that disappeared down a gentle slope. One assumed the steps led to the huge lake that could also be seen out the windows. A staircase centered in the living area led to the second floor balcony that wrapped around three sides of the cabin. I counted four closed doors I assumed were bedrooms.

One door suddenly opened. Erin came dashing out, clothed in a red silk slip nightie bordered with black lace trim. She had one arm inserted in the wide sleeve of a short black silk robe and was battling the other sleeve. She stopped at the top of the stairs, spotting Frank and me down below.

"Dad! What are you doing here?"

Glaring up at Erin with hands in his jacket pockets, he replied, "I could ask you the same thing. As a matter of fact, I will. What the hell are you doing here?"

New York City's District Attorney Robert McCoy came barreling out of the same door, dressed in black boxer shorts only, carrying a pair of belted slacks. He stopped just short of Erin. His eyes grew large.

"Commissioner Reagan!"

"District Attorney McCoy."

"Niiice!" I said, slightly under my breath.

Frank shot me a dirty look. "Put your eyes back in your head, Nicole."

Before he could turn his attention back to Erin, I asked, "Is that an order, Commissioner?"

Nodding his head numerous times, he said, "Yes! It is!"

He looked back at Erin, and then quickly back at me, still annoyed.

I simply shrugged my shoulders at him.

Focused again on the two upstairs, he said, "For God's sake, Bobby, put your pants on! While these two ladies — and I use that term lightly at the moment," he paused as he turned to me and then Erin, "might be enjoying the view, I clearly am not!"

"Oh, sorry, sir."

The DA turned his back to us, began slipping his pants on.

"Very niice!"

"Will you stop that, Nicole! This isn't funny."

"Actually it kinda is."

"I see nothing amusing about it! This is serious!"

"Oh, yes, Frank! So serious. You just caught your thirty-something-year-old daughter with a man! The horrors of it. Seriously, Frank! Lighten up."

"Thank you, Ms. Richardson. She's right, Dad. I'm a grown woman."

"A grown woman sleeping with her boss! And this doesn't concern you, Nicole. Stay out of it!" As if it finally clicked, Frank addressed Erin, "How the hell do you know her name! What's going on here?"

"We've met, Dad."

_"You've met_!" Turning back to me, he said, "You two have met, and I'm just finding that out! Why the hell did I not know this! Did you know about all this going on?"

Frank's face was getting redder by the minute.

"Of course I didn't know! How in the world would I know! Seriously, Frank. Get a grip! And calm down, before you have a heart attack."

Erin, now robed and cinched, made her way down the stairs. Mr. McCoy, pants on and belted, remained in place.

"She's right, Dad. It can't be good for your health to get so worked up like this."

"There is nothing wrong with my health, so quit trying to change the subject! And quit ganging up on me, you two. You should be on my side, Nicole, not taking hers."

"I'd rather not be on either side! I'm getting a headache. I seriously need a cup of coffee. Would someone just point me the way to the nearest coffee pot, and I will leave you three to work this out."

"I'll help you with that," Mr. McCoy said as he headed down the stairs to join us. Extending his hand to me, he said, "I'm Robert McCoy, by the way. And you are?"

"Knock of the introductions! This isn't a damn social call!"

Ignoring Frank, I shook the DA's hand and said, "I'm Nicole Richardson. Please, show me the way to that coffee."

He led me to the kitchen, asking if he could call me Nicole along the way, and to call him Bobby. Inside the large kitchen, he opened cabinets until he found one containing coffee and filters, then handed them to me as he pointed at the coffeemaker sitting on the black granite counter. We could hear Frank and Erin as they continued to argue.

"What are you doing here with him, Erin? You told me it was over between the two of you when he accepted the position of District Attorney."

"I thought it was, Dad. It's just not that simple."

"It _is_ that simple! He's your boss! You don't sleep with your boss, and you certainly don't sneak away with him for a dirty weekend!"

"A _dirty weekend_? Really, Dad? So, I guess you just came up to fish, and brought _her _alongto do the cleaning?"

"You leave her out of this! And it's not the same thing. I'm not her boss!"

"Okay, maybe it isn't the same thing, but obviously you brought her here because you want to be with her, because you care about her. That's no different than why I'm here with Bobby. I care about him, I want to be with him."

"I don't want to hear this!"

"Well, you're going to hear it, Dad, whether you want to or not. Bobby and I have strong feelings for each other. We tried to stay away, but we just couldn't. We are being careful. That's why we're here, where we didn't expect anyone to find us. You should have told me you were coming up here this weekend."

"It's my cabin! I don't have to tell you or anyone else! I can come up here any time I damn well please! You're the one who needed approval to be here, not me!"

"Right, Dad, and I'm sure if I had asked you for the use of the cabin to hang out with Bobby McCoy, you would have given your blessing."

"Hell, no, I wouldn't have!"

"I rest my case, Commissioner. Fine, you're right. It's your cabin, I have no right to be here. Bobby and I will pack up our things and be out of your way as quickly as we can, and then you and Nicole can carry on with your own_ dirty_ weekend."

"Good!"

"Guess I better go help her pack up. Nice to meet you, Nicole."

"You, too, Bobby. Thanks for the help with the coffee."

Minutes after Bobby exited the kitchen, Frank walked in. I was standing by the coffeemaker, waiting on the coffee to finish brewing.

"So you think I'm out of line?"

"I have no opinion, Frank. It's not my business. Remember?"

"Okay, maybe I was out of line, in that instance. I do care what you think. Your opinion matters, especially since you can be much more objective than me."

"I understand you being upset, Frank. He is her boss, and certainly that creates a conflict for both of them, and possibly puts their positions as DA and assistant DA in jeopardy. But I also understand their attraction to one another. He's a gorgeous man, and she's a beautiful, intelligent, successful woman. Sometimes physical attraction leads to something more than just sex. I know it's not quite the same, but you were concerned, and still are, I can only assume, about your relationship with me, and the effect it might have on your career. Yet, you kept coming back, and here we are."

"Point taken. I concede, in this instance. Come here." Frank reached out for me, pulled me close, kissed the top of my head. "And here we are. Not exactly how I planned the weekend."

"Our _dates _tend to not go as planned, but they tend to end so wonderfully. I'm hoping this one does as well."

"I'll do my best to see that it does," he replied, wrapping his arms tight around my waist.

Standing on my tiptoes, I reached to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down until his lips met mine. His kiss was at once aggressive. I forgot all about the other two cabin occupants. Until—

"Excuse me," Erin said, after clearing her throat twice.

Frank instantly released me, I quickly moved away from him.

"I didn't mean to interrupt such a tender moment, I just wanted to let you know, Dad, we're packed up and on our way."

"Stay, Erin." Frank stood with his hands in his pockets, his eyes focused on the hard wood flooring.

"What?"

"You heard me. You and Bobby stay. You were here first. Nicole and I will leave."

"Are you sure, Dad?"

Facing Erin, he replied, "Yes, I'm sure. Doesn't mean I like it, or that I approve in any way. But you are a grown woman, you should be able to make your own choices, even if I believe they are the wrong choices."

"Thank you, Dad." Erin gave Frank a kiss on the cheek. "And please don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing."

"Yeah, well, you know I'm going to worry. It's what I do."

"Yes, I know, Dad. It is what you do, even when you shouldn't. What about you and Nicole? There are plenty of bedrooms here, but...it might be awkward."

"Oh, it would be more than just awkward."

"Yeah, I guess it would."

I had poured a cup of coffee, and was standing back out of the way, proud of Frank for his decision, but also disappointed that our weekend was not going to happen.

"Well, at least you can stay long enough for Nicole to have her coffee. You should even stay for breakfast. There's plenty of food, you must be hungry."

"I am starved. I would love to stay and have coffee and breakfast. Frank?"

Tilting his head from side to side, he said, "I guess there wouldn't be any harm in staying long enough for some breakfast. I am pretty hungry myself."

"Good. Then it's settled," Erin replied.

Entering the kitchen, Bobby said, "It's all loaded, Erin. Ready to go?"

"Unload it. We're staying. Dad and Nicole are joining us for breakfast."

"O-kay," Bobby replied, confused. He glanced at each one of us, waiting for an explanation. When no one spoke he said, "I'll just go unload then."

"So, Dad, I'm sure you had plans to do some fishing while you were here, among _other _things. Why don't you go down and fish while Nicole and I work on that breakfast. Take Bobby with you."

"I'm not going fishing with your boyfriend!"

"Dad, please. For me?"

"Honestly, I don't know which one of you is worse! Both of you think all you have to do is bat your eyes at me, and you'll get whatever you want."

"That's because it always works, Frank, you're such a pushover for a pretty, pouty face."

"She's got you there, Dad!"

"She does not! I will go fishing with Bobby, though. Anything to get away from you two. I'd rather the torture of making small talk with him over staying here with you two ganging up against me. I'll get the fishing gear out. Have Mr. McCoy meet me down at the lake." He started out the back door from the kitchen, stopped, and turned back to address us. "And don't think the two of you are off the hook. I still want to know how you two know each other, and at least one of you _will _tell me."

After he left, Erin said, "You know, he's going to be furious when I tell him. And he's going to be mad at both of us. Me, for going to see you like I did, and you, for keeping it from him. I'm sorry I put you in that situation, Nicole. May I call you Nicole?"

"Yes, of course. Don't worry about it. He'll blow up over it, but he'll get over it just as quickly. I can handle him."

"Yes, so I noticed, when I came in and caught him with his tongue down your throat!"

I felt the blood rushing to my face, my checks suddenly warm. Erin's comment made me blush.

Erin began pulling things out of the refrigerator — eggs, cheese, tomatoes — and placing them on the long island. Next she pulled a wooden cutting board out of a drawer, reached for a knife from the butcher block in the middle of the island.

"There's a grater in the cabinet over there, Nicole, if you'll grate some cheese for me. You must have enjoyed all that in there."

"Why? Because you showed up at my home uninvited and accused me of using your dad?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"Erin, I didn't appreciate your visit, or your accusation, but I understood why you felt the need. You care about your dad and want to protect him, just as he cares about you and wants to protect you. I'm no saint, though. I won't deny that I rather enjoyed the look on your face when you came running out of that room, half-dressed, and us — your dad — standing there."

Erin laughed. "I felt like I was back in high school, the time he caught me behind the bleachers with Tommy Tidwell. Dad had the same disapproving look on his face this morning as he did that day!"

"I can just imagine! So, what are we making here?"

"Omelets. My speciality."

"So, did you learn how to prepare them from your dad, or did he learn from you?"

"Actually, we both learned from Mom. She made the best omelets ever! So, Dad has made you omelets for breakfast?"

"Not breakfast, Erin. Dinner."

"I see. You know, he still hasn't told any of the family about you, at least that I'm aware of. Not surprising, though. While he wants to know _everything_ going on in our lives, he tends to be private about his own. I think he's not sure how we'll react to the idea of another woman in his life."

"That's understandable."

"I guess it is. But Mom has been gone for ten years. None of us expect him to spend the rest of his life alone. We've all noticed how happy he seems these days. I can only assume you're the reason for this happiness."

"You and your brothers are very important to Frank. You're his life. You, and 35,000 of New York's finest. You will always come first in his life. As you should. I love how his eyes light up when he talks about Nicky and the boys, Sean and —?"

"Jack. Nicky worships her grandfather. _And _her uncles. She wants to be _just__like them_. She wants to be the first Reagan female cop."

"And you would prefer otherwise?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"I'm sure I would." I had finished with the cheese. "What else can I do to help?"

"There's some bagels and some cinnamon bread in that cabinet, if you want to put some out. There should be a bread basket down there as well. And butter and cream cheese in the refrigerator. She paused, then asked, "So is it serious between the two of you?"

"I could ask the same about you and Mr. McCoy."

"Yes, you could, and I would tell you it was none of your business, so I expect that is your answer for me as well."

"It is."

"Got it. Question withdrawn."

The room became silent, except for the ticking of a large clock hanging on one wall. We both jumped at the sound of Beyonce's voice coming from inside my handbag that I had tossed on the counter when entering the kitchen. I had recently changed my ring tone to the artist's remake of the song _Crazy in Love _from the movie version of _Shades of Grey._ I grabbed the bag, pulled out my phone, saw that it was a call from Frank.

"Hey!"

"Is that breakfast ready yet?"

"Almost."

"Good. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

I disconnected the call. I sent him a text message, though I knew he hated them, insisted he barely knew how to read one, much less reply to one.

_Missing you._

He didn't reply. I didn't expect that he would. He did show up minutes afterward. I saw him out the kitchen window as he reached the top of the steps, fishing gear in hand. Bobby followed several steps behind. It was several minutes later when he walked into the kitchen.

"Perfect timing, Dad. Go get washed up. It's almost ready. What did you do with Bobby?"

"Good. I'm famished. Don't worry. Your boyfriend is still intact. He'll be in in a minute."

Frank glanced at me, then at Erin. Then he did something that took me by total surprise. He walked over to where I stood, and planted a huge kiss right on my lips! Then he disappeared into the next room.

I shot a glance at Erin. She had a grin on her face from ear to ear.

"Oh, yeah, it's serious, all right. At least it is for him." Her grin disappeared as quickly as Frank had. "If you hurt my dad in any way, Nicole, I will come after you, and I will not come alone!"

Disregarding Erin's attempt to put the fear of God — and Danny — in me, I asked, "Would you like me to set the table?"

"Yes, that would be nice. The one on the patio, please," she replied with a smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N — The weekend getaway was planned as one chapter, but it has turned into a couple more. I hope you are not too bored by them. Nicole and Frank will return to the city and more action soon, including a shocking surprise when the evil blackmailer is revealed. Until then, I hope you will sit back, relax with your favorite drink, and enjoy the great outdoors. And, as always, thanks to all of you who take the time to read, and review.**

Breakfast on the patio was actually quite pleasant, for a while at least. The near 70 degree temperature was perfect, the view was fabulous, with the crystal clear lake below surrounded by a thick forest of massive evergreens. The serenity of it was a complete 180 from the noisy hustle-bustle of the city. I understood why Frank would want such a place to get away, and was pleased he had wanted to share it with me. I wondered who else he had shared it with, but didn't really want to know, preferring to believe I was the first. Other than the Sunday drives out of the city in his fancy sports car, which was as much about putting the pedal to the medal as it was getting away from the city, Daniel had been quite content to spend weekends in New York, taking in the latest Broadway play, symphony, or ballet at the Lincoln Center, or concert in the park. Daniel was all about the arts, the fine restaurants, the "in" clubs. He had no interest in such mundane activities as fishing, hiking, or simply relaxing on a back porch, listening to the sweet sounds of mother nature.

Frank kept his promise before the breakfast was over.

"Okay, let's hear it. Erin. Nicole. Which one of you is going to tell me how the two of you managed to cross paths? And why I was kept in the dark about it."

"Jamie told me one Sunday, several weeks ago, while he was helping me finish up in the kitchen, about seeing the two of you together in the park and walking one evening. I believe he mentioned something about Nicole carrying her shoes."

"So?"

"I'm getting there, Dad, if you'll let me continue."

"Carry on."

"He said his partner, Miss Janko, recognized Nicole as this Cassandra Carrington romance novelist."

"And?"

"Really, Dad?"

Frank shrugged his shoulders. "Fine, I'll stop interrupting."

"Thank you."

I interrupted, took over. Erin was dragging out the story way more than I considered necessary.

"Erin did her homework, as any good attorney/daughter would, and was concerned about my motives, just as you were yourself, Frank. And Danny. She visited me one morning. We had a chat. End of story."

"Except no one bothered to tell me about it. Didn't you think I had a right to know?"

"Yeah, well, we all seem to be keeping secrets, don't we, Dad? Don't you think it's about time you introduce Nicole to the family?"

"I think you should pass me those bagels."

"I think you're avoiding the question, Dad. You don't even like bagels. Why don't you want all of us to meet her? Why are you keeping this _romance_, or whatever it is, a secret? And by the way, what's this about Danny questioning her motives as well? Have you told him? Jamie and Danny know, but you didn't think I had a right to?"

"He had an occasion recently to meet Nicole."

"What occasion? I saw the look on your face when she mentioned Danny. What's going on, Dad? You're hiding something, I can tell. Spill it."

"You know she's not going to ease up until you tell her, Frank," Bobby chimed in.

"Family trait, it seems," I replied.

"It's a police matter, Erin. Nothing you need to know about. At least not yet."

"A police matter that involves your _girlfriend_, and my brother? You really think I'm just going to let that pass, and not insist on knowing more?"

"No, unfortunately, Erin, I know that is not going to happen. And why do you say _girlfriend, _like it's something dirty?"

"Because you're keeping it secret, like it is something dirty. Bobby and I have a good reason for keeping our relationship quiet. What is yours?"

"There's nothing dirty about it. I just prefer to keep my personal life personal. That's all."

"Even from your family? Why, do think we'll object out of loyalty to Mom?"

"Something like that, yes!" Frank replied, shaking his head vigorously. "And I really don't care to have this conversation with you at this moment."

"Fine. At least tell me what this police matter is."

"Fine. But you have to promise, both of you, that you keep this to yourself. You do not share it with anyone, including Jaime or Pop. Is that understood?"

"Okay, Dad, now you've got me worried. What's going on?"

Frank revealed everything about the blackmailer, except the part where Danny considered me a suspect.

"That's why I brought Nicole here for the weekend. To protect her from this sorry son of a bitch, until Danny catches him."

"Wow! Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"Danny has some leads he's working on." Frank's eyes quickly darted to me.

Erin was good. She didn't miss a thing.

"Nicole's a lead? Danny thinks she's the blackmailer?"

"No, of course he doesn't! The idea is absurd."

"Is it?" Erin asked, directing the question to me.

"God! What is it with you Reagan's?" I stood, grabbed my empty coffee cup, and turned to walk away.

"Where are you going, Nicole!"

"To get more coffee! And fresher air."

"Come on, Nicole! She had to ask."

"No, Frank, she didn't." I turned and headed inside, closing the door behind me with force.

I was standing in the kitchen, staring at the empty coffee pot, fighting back tears, when Frank entered. He stood next to me, leaning his back against the counter. He said nothing, just stared at the floor, his hands in his pockets, that damn lip pursed.

"I am NOT the blackmailer, and I am so tired of all of you thinking I had anything to do with it, or that I would use you in any way. Why is it so difficult for anyone to believe that I might just simply enjoy your company?" A let out a big sigh, and then continued. "I want to go home, Frank. I'm worried about Alice. I tried to call her, and she didn't answer."

"Alice is fine. I checked in before breakfast. She — and her cat — left with a young woman around nine this morning. A Lillian Bower, according to the car registration."

"Her daughter." It wasn't unusual for Alice to spend the weekend with Lillian and her family. And she always insisted on taking Mr. Bailey with her, though I promised to check on him while she was away more than once. "Thank you, dear, but Mr. Bailey goes where I go. He would be much too lonely without me." He would most likely be fine, I suspected she was the one who would be lonely without him.

"Yes, her daughter."

"But I saw Harry leave when you arrived?"

"He did. And his replacement arrived just as we left."

"You saw him?"

"I did. I promised you I would make sure your home and your neighbors were safe while you were gone. And I will. All will be watched 24/7 until this bastard is caught."

"At your own expense."

"I told you, I can afford it. Keeping you, and Alice and her cat, safe is worth whatever it takes. I care about you, Nicole, and I'm not going to let you or your friends be harmed in any way. I'm sure it was nothing more than an empty threat to get me to pay, but I'm not willing to take that risk. I'll take you home now if that's what you want, but I'm not leaving you there alone. And I'm not leaving you until we work this out. I don't believe that you had anything to do with the blackmail, but you have to understand. We're a family of cops, all the way back to my grandfather. It's our nature to be suspicious."

"Erin's not a cop."

"No, but she has the Reagan blood, and she is assistant DA. It's her job to ask questions. You get a double whammy with Erin." He smiled with that. Then he cupped my face in his hands, kissed me gently. "Let me help you make another pot of coffee. We'll drive back to the city whenever you're ready, but I'd really like to hang around for a while longer, enjoy the peace and quiet. And I'd like to take you down to the lake, put a fishing pole in your hand."

"I have never fished in my life."

"Then it's time you did."

Frank removed the empty pot from the burner, carried it over to the sink, began filling it with water. I opened the cabinet, pulled out the can of coffee and filters.

Bobby appeared in the doorway, carrying empty plates. "Everything okay in here?"

Frank looked at me for the answer.

"Everything is fine," I replied. "Let me help you with those."

Erin showed up a several seconds later, her hands full as well.

"Mind if Nicole and I stick around for a while longer, Erin? I'd like to take her down and do some fishing before we head back. Or will we be intruding on your plans?"

"You won't be intruding on anything, Dad. And it's your place, you can hang around as long as you like. Take Nicole fishing."

"Let me help with kitchen cleanup first," I said. "While the coffee's brewing."

"We'll all help," Frank said, rolling up the sleeves of his red plaid shirt.

XXXXX

With the four of us pitching in, the kitchen was spotless in a short time. Frank led me down the sloped steps, loaded with fishing gear. Just as we reached the bottom step, he stopped.

"Shh...look over there," he whispered.

I did. Several yards to the right of us, just inside the lush green thicket, stood the most beautiful, amazing creature I had ever seen.

The huge antlered deer raised his head, cocked his ears back, turned to see us. He snorted twice, stomped his foot, and then turned, quickly disappearing into the deep woods.

"Oh my God, Frank, he was beautiful!"

"Yep. That he was."

"Do you see deer often around here?"

"Yes, regularly."

"And bears?"

"Not as often," Frank replied, grinning.

When we reached the water's edge of the lake, Frank sat his gear down, and my fishing lesson began.

"There are two types of fishing normally used around here. Fly fishing, and spin fishing. I prefer the spin fishing, for rainbow trout. The best bait to use is shrimp, but I have also had good luck with a power worm."

"A power worm? Just what is a power worm?"

Opening his large blue tackle box, he pulled something out, and said, "This is a power worm."

It was long, and bright orange in color. It reminded me of an oversized gummy worm. I was relieved it was plastic, and not the real thing. I still had no desire to touch it."

Offering it to me, Frank said, "Here, you want to put it on the hook?"

"No, thanks. I let you do it."

He smiled his big smile at me, proceeded to prepare the rod for fishing. He gently cast it out far into the lake, then handed it to me. "Just hold on to that, and when you feel a tug, jerk it back easy, to set the hook, and then slowly reel it in."

"Right," I said, tentatively taking the pole from him, wondering exactly what kind of tug I should be prepared for.

Frank cast his own line a short distance from mine. Then we waited in silence. The only sounds were the constant chatter of birds, and an occasional crackle as some unknown creature moved through the large trees. Standing several steps to my right, and in front of me, Frank finally interrupted the silence, his eyes focused on the water, his back to me.

"So, you think Bobby McCoy is gorgeous?"

"I think he's a very attractive man. Yes."

"And you think I'm an old man on the verge of a heart attack." He still had his back to me, eyes still focused on the water.

"That's not what I said, Frank. Certainly not what I meant. I do worry about your health, because I care about you, and your job as Police Commissioner is stressful, with Jamie and Danny part of the force, adding to that stress, and now this horrible blackmailer, and Erin and Bobby. It's a lot to have on your plate, for anyone. It has nothing to do with your age. I've been to bed with you, Frank. There is _nothing_ old about you."

"Good answer," Frank said, turning around and stepping closer to me. He leaned in to give me a quick kiss, then turned back to his fishing. I reached for his jacket, pulled him back. He took the hint, put his arm around my waist.

"You drive me crazy, Nicole. You know that, don't you? If my daughter wasn't several yards up the hill—"

At that moment I felt a huge tug. Not at my heart, but my line. Whatever was at the other end, almost pulled it out of my hands. "Holy crap!"

Frank turned. "You've got one, Nicole!"

"One what!"

"A fish! And he's running away with your line! Jerk it! Reel him in!"

"Help me!"

Frank did. Dropping his own pole, he quickly moved behind me, putting his arms around me, his hands on top of mine on the pole. "Reel it in. Nice and easy," he said, his large hand guiding mine, turning the handle of the reel. His breath warmed my neck, the closeness of him aroused every part of me. At that moment I had no interest in my pole, or the reel, or whatever creature was in that lake attached to the line and trying to make a getaway with it all. I wanted Frank. Unfortunately, Frank was interested in the creature at the end of my line.

He kept turning the handle, kept repeating the words _Nice and slow, nice and slow._ The more he repeated those words, the more I wanted him_. Nice and slow._

"We got him. Keep this tight, while I get the net."

I could see the creature now, he was in the shallows of the water, exhausted from his struggle, but still squirming, not quite ready to give up the battle. With net in hand, Frank waded into the water, scooped him up into the net. Back on dry land, he reached into the net, pulled the fish out.

"Nice rainbow trout, Nicole. Good job! You just caught lunch!"

"Lunch! I'm not eating that poor thing."

"Sure you are! Now, we just need to catch a few more like him, and we have a meal for all!"

I watched Frank as he attached the fish to some sort of line, set it back in the water. Before I could question him about it, he approached me.

"Nice work, Nicole. By the way, have I mentioned what your perfume does to me?" he asked, pulling me into his arms, and continuing the kiss Erin had interrupted in the kitchen earlier.

"Just get a room, why don't you, and get it over with!"

Frank jerked away. I turned toward the voice. Erin and Bobby were standing a few feet from us.

"You could have at least made some noise coming down the steps, you know."

"We weren't exactly quiet, Dad. I'm not sure a bear would have interrupted that! We _thought _you were fishing, we wanted to come down and join you."

"We are fishing," Frank replied.

"Yeah, right."

"We were! Nicole caught a nice one!"

"And you were just congratulating her, I suppose."

"That's exactly what I was doing!"

"Must have been quite a fish!"

They did join us, and by early afternoon, several more nice trout had been caught. Frank and Bobby enjoyed a couple of beers while Frank tutored Bobby in the art of fish cleaning. Erin opened a bottle of white wine, poured us both a glass. We relaxed on the patio, while Frank prepared the trout; Bobby created his _signature_ green salad.

"You know," Erin said, holding her wine glass up and pointing it in the direction of the kitchen, "if those two aren't careful, they may just become good friends."

Funny she should say that. I had just been thinking the same thing, about the two of us.


	14. Chapter 14

"That was the best pan-fried rainbow trout I have ever had, Frank. You can cook for me any time," Bobby said, finishing the last bite on his plate, as we all sat at the patio table enjoying the late lunch.

"I agree, Dad, that was excellent."

"I must agree, Frank, your skills in the kitchen never cease to amaze me," I added.

"You won't think it's so great when you see the mess I made in the kitchen," Frank teased.

His cell phone rang at that moment. I hoped it wasn't a police matter, requiring his immediate return to the city. I wasn't ready to head back yet.

"Jamie, what can I do for you, son?"

We could only hear Frank's side of the conversation, but it wasn't difficult to figure out what was being said on the other end of the line.

"Yes, that's right. I am at the cabin."

"I appreciate that, Jamie, but I'm actually not here alone."

"No problem, son. Anything else I can do for you?"

"No, I actually couldn't say where your sister is at this moment, _or _why she's not answering her phone." Frank gave Erin a perturbed look as he spoke. "Is everything all right, Jamie? Is there something on your mind, son?"

"Okay, if you're sure. Then I will see you tomorrow, at Sunday dinner. Love you, son."

"What was that all about? Is Jamie okay?" Erin asked.

"Says he is. Seems your little brother is bored this afternoon. Went by the house to see what was going on, Pop told him I was here, he thought he might join me, to keep me company. Can someone please tell me why my young, handsome, Harvard grad son doesn't have a hot date on Saturday night, while his old man does?"

Frank reached for my hand that was resting on the table. Held it in his. I was pleased that he was comfortable to show his affection for me in front of his daughter, and the DA.

"That's easy, Dad, because he's in love with his partner."

"Officer Janko?"

"Does he have any other partner?"

"What makes you say that, Erin?"

"It's obvious, Frank," I chimed in. "I see it, and I've only been around them a few short times. And I'd say it's mutual."

"Really? You think they're romantically involved?"

"No. Not at all. But the feelings are there," Erin replied.

"Do I need to speak to him about it?"

"No, Dad. I already tried. He denied it."

"Well, if he denied it to you, he certainly won't confide in me. But still..."

"Unless it's affecting his job performance, leave it alone, Dad."

"Well, it's not that I'm aware of, but —"

"His sarge would speak to you, or at least to Jamie, if he thought there was a problem, wouldn't her? Leave it alone, Dad. Trust Jamie to handle it himself."

"I guess you're right, Erin," Frank replied, frowning.

He was still holding my hand. I squeezed his. This was one more thing on his plate, one more thing for him to worry about. I wished at that moment I could somehow make all of Frank Reagan's worries disappear.

"Are there any of us Reagan's involved in a normal relationship, one that's not either secret or denied? Who's next? Pop having a secret affair with old lady McGee at the other end of our street?"

"Oh, God, Dad! Please! That old hag? I would hope Grandpa would do better than that! Didn't her husband just pack up and leave one night, years ago, and never return?"

"That was the story she told. Jamie and his buddies saw her burying something in the backyard shortly after he left. They were convinced she had killed him, cut him up into small pieces, and buried him. They couldn't understand why I wouldn't arrest her. Her old cat disappeared around the same time as the husband. I was pretty sure that was what she buried."

"Let's hope so. Anyway, at least Danny and Linda have a normal relationship, although I'll never understand how she puts up with him. He can be so obnoxious, so irritating."

"Danny can be a handful, no denying that. But Linda manages to keep him in line most of the time. Of course, they do have their problems, like all married couples do, but they work it out."

"Yeah, usually at Sunday dinner. That's why you don't want to introduce Nicole to the family! Ten minutes at Sunday dinner with our bunch, and she'd probably run the other direction. And I wouldn't blame her. I've wanted to run away from it a few times myself."

"You've got a point there. I try to keep it civil, but it does tend to get out of hand, more often than not."

Frank was silent for a few seconds, then said, "Well, I think it's time Nicole and I head back to the city. I think we've imposed on your weekend long enough. Let's get the kitchen cleaned up, and we'll be on our way."

XXXXX

I was not ready to return to New York. I still wanted that full night with Frank, and I wasn't sure I would get it back home. As we drove away from his cabin, I said, "Frank, at the risk of being too forward—"

"Since when does Nicole Richardson consider that a risk?" Frank asked, shooting a quick grin my way.

"Fine. I'm not ready to go home. Driving up here this morning, I noticed rental lake cabins just down the road, and a vacancy sign at the office. Perhaps we could rent one for the night. I mean...I'm sure they wouldn't be anything as nice as yours...but, as long as they're clean, I wouldn't mind...if you wouldn't." The more I spoke, the more uncomfortable I became with my proposition. "Or we can just go home. That's probably best. It was just an idea...but a bad one, I guess."

"It's not a bad idea at all, Nicole. I just can't quite see Commissioner Frank Reagan renting a cabin without raising some eyebrows. Even this far out. I'm sure they would require some ID."

"That's true. You couldn't do it, but Nicole Richardson could."

Frank stared silently at the road ahead for what seemed forever.

"So just where did you see these cabins?" he finally asked.

XXXXX

A one-bedroom cabin was available, on the water; a last minute cancellation, according to the desk clerk. It was quaint, cozy. And clean. To me it was perfect, but perhaps that was because I was there with Frank. I showered and freshened up while Frank unloaded the pickup. He had brought provisions for his cabin, unaware of Erin and Bobby's presence, including a cooler of breakfast foods and cheeses; breads; wine; and a bottle of his favorite scotch.

Once showered, I dressed in a fresh pair of tight jeans, and a light-weight lavender sweater, low-scooped neckline, left my washed and dried hair down, dabbed on a touch of perfume, checked my lipstick once more for any smears, and joined Frank in the tiny kitchen.

"You look nice," he said, kissing me. "I just opened you some wine, and actually found some wine glasses in the cabinet. I don't think they're top quality, but they should work."

"They're perfect," I said, pouring a glass for myself. Frank had already poured himself a glass of the scotch.

"Guess it's my turn to clean up," he said, downing the last sip of his drink.

"You do smell rather fishy," I teased.

"Not your favorite smell on a man, huh?"

"No."

"Then I'll go do something about that," he said, kissing me again.

"Please do," I said, taking a sip of my wine. "But don't be long."

I prepared a plate of the cheeses and bread while he showered. We were both too full from the late lunch to want anything more for dinner than a light snack. I waited for Frank on the wooden bench of the small, covered porch, sipping on my wine and nibbling on the cheese. Though the lake was much smaller than the one below Frank's cabin, the view was nice, with a forest of trees just a short swim across from the cabin. The light of the day had faded since we arrived, as well as the warmth from the sun. Within a few minutes, I was chilled. I stepped back inside, filled my glass with more wine, grabbed the heavy throw I had noticed draped over the living room sofa, and returned to the porch bench, anxious for Frank to join me. There was no wailing of sirens in the distance, but the atmosphere was not exactly peaceful and quiet. Frogs croaked loudly, as if to drown out the steady chirp of crickets. Something buzzed past me more than once, mosquitoes I assumed. Frank had warned me to use the insect repellant he packed, but I had chosen not to, not wanting the offensive odor of it to interfere with my perfume.

Rain was falling by the time Frank joined me, an easy, steady rain. He had dressed in casual beige pants, a smoked grey, long-sleeved polo shirt, and casual jacket. He had a freshly poured drink in hand. Noticing that I had the throw wrapped around me, he asked, "Too cold out here for you?"

"No, it's perfect. Sit."

When he did, I cuddled next to him. "You clean up nicely, and you smell good, too."

"So do you," he said, kissing my temple. "Quite a day, huh?" Pulling a cigar out from inside his jacket, he asked, "Sure you don't mind these?"

"I don't mind them at all."

"Good," he said, lighting it. "Mary hated them."

I was disappointed Mary was on his mind. We had talked and reminisced about Mary and Daniel during the morning drive. I no longer wanted to talk, or even think about either.

Frank was extremely quiet as he sat, sipping on his drink and enjoying the cigar.

"A penny for your thoughts."

He chuckled. "Not sure they're worth that."

"Why don't you share, and let me decide?"

"I've actually been thinking about several things this evening."

He was so serious, I suddenly wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"I think I owe you an explanation, Nicole."

"About what?"

"I told you before that I didn't totally trust you, but I didn't explain why." Frank kept his eyes focused on the lake as he spoke. "About four years ago, I was involved with a beautiful blonde reporter. Long story short, she used knowledge she gained from me, unofficial police business, to benefit her career."

"I see. So, once bitten, twice shy. And the experience left you leery of all career-minded, attractive blondes."

"Something like that."

"I'm sorry for your experience, Frank, and I appreciate you sharing that with me. But you can't judge the rest of us by this one misguided individual."

"Very true. And I survived it, so all is good."

Wanting to lighten the mood, I teased, "So, exactly how beautiful are we talking here?"

"Nowhere near as beautiful as you, Nicole. Not even close."

"Good answer, Commissioner." I reached up to touch the side of his face, stroked it gently with the tip of my fingers. "I'm not her, Frank."

"No, you're not," he replied, placing his drink and cigar on the small table next to the bench. Taking my hand in his and kissing it, he continued, "Before I get too carried away, which is so easy with you, I have a couple more things to say."

I had no desire to continue with any conversation, but it was obvious Frank had things he needed to get off his chest, so I let him.

"I've been thinking a lot about things said this morning. Things Erin said. Our relationship _has_ been full of secrets, it seems, including the relationship itself. My doing, I know. I didn't mean to make it seem like something dirty, but I can see how it might appear that way. There's nothing dirty about how I feel about you, Nicole. Erin's right, it's time I introduce you to the family. Those you haven't already met, anyway."

"I'd like that, Frank. Very much. But, for now, it's been a long day, and I'm tired. I'm headed to bed."

I stood, removing the throw from my shoulders. I bent over, kissed his lips. "Finish your drink and your cigar, and then join me."

"Nicole, there's something else I want to say, before I lose the nerve. I lo—"

I touched my finger to his lips, and then kissed them.

"Don't be long, Frank. I'll be waiting."

I left him sitting on the porch, with the rain, the crickets, his drink, his cigar, and his unspoken words.

XXXXX

I was disappointed when I woke the next morning to find Frank gone from the bed. His side was mussed, so I at least hadn't dreamed he had been there. I reached for his pillow, stacking it on top of my own. The faint scent of his cologne remained. I reached up to grab the cord to the blinds covering the large window above the bed, turned it just enough to let some light into the room. The rain had continued through the night, but it was now replaced by sunshine. Very bright sunshine. Picking up my phone next to the bed, I saw that it was barely seven o'clock, and wondered why had Frank left the bed so early. The birds seemed to be enjoying the fresh air. I wondered if their noisy singing was what had woken me. Or was it the overwhelming aroma of fried bacon?

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Frank's voice startled me. I had closed my eyes, remembering the night before when Frank had joined me, not long after I had left him on the porch.

Aware of his presence in the room now, I reached down for the covers, pulled them up to cover my naked breasts.

"Bashful the morning after, are we? No need to cover those for my benefit, I rather enjoy them."

Allowing the covers to drop to my waist, I reached for my robe, smiling to myself as I recalled just how much he had enjoyed them the night before.

"You're certainly up early, Frank."

"Never have been one to sleep late."

"You should have woken me."

"I considered it. But you were sleeping so soundly, I decided not to. So I just had may way with you while you slept."

"Did you now? Next time please wake me, that is something I definitely don't want to sleep through."

Frank was fully dressed. He was carrying a large mug of coffee. He approached the bed, leaned down to give me kiss. "I do enjoy it more when you're involved. Your morning coffee. Hope it's to your liking."

Taking the mug from him, I replied, "Coffee in bed. Goodness, what more could a woman want?"

"Hopefully eggs and bacon. Breakfast is almost ready. As a matter of fact, if I don't get back to the kitchen, it will be burned."

As he started out of the room, I said, "Frank."

He stopped, looked back at me.

"Last night was nice."

"Smiling and raising his eyebrows, he said, "Yes, it was, Nicole. Very nice." Then he left.

I leaned back against the pillows, took a sip of the hot coffee. It was perfect, just like Frank.

I joined Frank in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed in the same clothes from the night before.

"Perfect timing," he said. "It's ready."

"Good, I'm starving," I said, sitting on one of the barstools where Frank had sat out plates for us both. "I hope there's more of this wonderful coffee as well."

Frank reached for the coffee pot to his left, poured a cup for me. Replacing the pot, he sat down across the small bar from me, began filling our plates with eggs, bacon, and toast.

"You are spoiling me with all these wonderful meals, Frank Reagan. I only have one compliant."

"What might that be?"

"That you were gone from the bed when I woke. I had so looked forward to waking up with you next to me."

"We can always go back to bed after breakfast," he said, reaching for my hand, entwining his fingers with mine, our eyes locked.

"I'd like that, Frank."

XXXXX

We left the cabin only minutes before the eleven o'clock check-out time. As we headed back to the city, and the realities of life it held, I thought about the blackmailer, recalling something Frank had mentioned on the phone Thursday evening. It had been only days ago, but it seemed like a life-time ago.

"Frank, you said something about finding a burner phone that the blackmailer had tossed in a trash barrel. Where?"

"The corner of Williams and Lexington. Why?"

"Just curious."

That corner was familar to me, but I couldn't think at the moment why. Then it clicked.

"Oh, my God! No way! It can't be. Can it?"

"Nicole! What? What are you talking about? What's going on?"

I had my hand over my mouth. I still couldn't believe what I was thinking. But I couldn't deny the possibility of it either, no matter how incredible it seemed.

"Frank, I think I know who the blackmailer might be. It's crazy, but..."

"Nicole! Who? If you have someone in mind, tell me!"

I still didn't want to say it. _How could he do such a thing? _Sybil and I considered him a friend. We had always been nice to him, tipped him well, we had even attended one of his plays. _How could he?_

"Nicole, dammnit! Say who!"

"I think it might be the waiter, at The Sandwich Shoppe, where Sybil and I meet for lunch regularly."


	15. Chapter 15

"It's crazy, Frank, but I think Erik could be the blackmailer!"

We hadn't reached the main highway yet. Frank pulled into the parking lot of a small grocery store.

"Who is this Erik and why would you think it's him?"

"Because, he always waits on us, and he could have heard us talking, and he might have seen your photo, I didn't think he did, but I guess it's possible, I thought I removed it in time, but maybe not." My adrenaline was pumping like crazy, my heart beating out of my chest, the words were flying out of my mouth.

"Slow down, Nicole! Take a deep breath. What photo, what did this person hear?"

A took a deep breath as he said, and continued, trying to calm down, to make more sense.

"Sybil and I have a favorite place we like to meet for lunch. It's called _The Sandwich Shoppe_. It's near that corner. It's a small place. Erik is a waiter there. Erik Raoul. I remember when he first introduced himself to us. He said he was Erik, as in the Phantom."

"The phantom?"

"Yes, as in _Phantom of the Opera. _He said that was his goal in life. To someday play that role on Broadway. Sybil and I always doubted that was his real name. Erik Raoul. Seriously? Anyway, we always sit at the same table if it's available, he always waits on us. He's young, around 22 or 23, I'd say. He's a drama student. Part time. We've gotten to be friends with him, somewhat. He invited us to attend a play he was in a while back. He was thrilled to have gotten the lead part. We went, just to support him. He's actually quite good. Tall, dark hair, attractive young man. Anyway, the day after we...you know...the night I took the photo of you in the kitchen in the pink apron. The next day Sybil and I met there for a late lunch. She was asking me about our date. Remember, you were supposed to take me to dinner, but it didn't happen."

"Yes, Nicole, I remember the night quite well. But what does all that have to do with the blackmailer?"

"Well, I may be way off track, but Sybil and I did talk about you that day, he could have overheard some of the conversation. And, I showed her that photo of you on my phone. When she handed the phone back to me, I placed it on the table, without clearing the photo. Erik showed up right then with our drinks, or something, I can't remember for sure. I removed the phone before he had a chance to see it, or at least I thought I did. Saying it now it seems ridiculous. He's a friend, I can't imagine he would do something like that."

"You'd be surprised at what people will do for money, Nicole."

Frank reached for his cell phone. Punched some numbers. "Danny, this is your dad. I think I have a lead on the blackmailer." Frank relayed everything I had said to Danny. Then he listened for several minutes.

"Good work, Danny. I should have known you'd already be on it. Bring him in for questioning. But, Danny, don't get in too much rush. I want to be there when you question him, and it's going to be a few hours before I can be there."

Frank paused while Danny spoke. Then he said, "I can honestly say I have no idea where your sister is at this moment, or why she isn't answering her phone. I'm sure she's fine." Another pause, and then, "Well, Sunday dinner may just have to be a bit late. I'll call Pop, give him a heads up. He won't be happy about it, but he'll get over it."

Frank disconnected the call, then made two more. One to his dad, to let him know he and Danny might be late to Sunday dinner. Then he made one more call, leaving the message _Erin, answer your_ _damn phone_!

He started up the truck, returned to the road, and continued the drive home.

"So what did Danny say?"

"He said he's already on this guy. When they found the burner phone, he checked out all the businesses in the area. He showed a photo of you to the owner of this shop. The owner recognized you immediately, said you and your friend Sybil were regulars, his favorite customers. He pointed out this Erik, said he always took care of you. Danny questioned the guy, said he was cocky, but something about the guy bothered Danny, so he's been keeping an eye on him."

"Wow."

"Anything else you can tell me about the guy?"

"No, not that I can think of."

"How about that photo of the woman? Are you sure, Nicole, there was nothing familiar about her?"

I hadn't thought about that photo, that poor woman, since we left New York the morning before.

"I'm sure, Frank. I have never seen that woman before."

"Well, Danny will find her, whoever she is."

We were silent for several minutes.

"Frank, I am_ so_ sorry."

"For what?"

"For showing that photo to Sybil, and for causing all this, if it is indeed him."

"No need to apologize, Nicole. You are the victim here. It was a harmless photo that you shared with a friend. You oughta be able to do that without fear of being blackmailed! He's the bad guy here, not you. You sure you don't want to join the family for dinner this evening? Should be an interesting one."

Laughing, I said, "No, I think I'll pass on this one, thanks."

Frank had invited me to join him and his family during our morning breakfast. I had declined, saying while I was looking forward to meeting his whole family, I needed more than a few hours to mentally prepare for such a meeting. I was thrilled that Frank had decided it was time, but the idea of sitting down at a table with all nine Reagans scared the crap out of me. I so would, however, love to be a fly on the wall at tonight's dinner.

XXXXX

Frank dropped me off at home around two in the afternoon. Said he would call later, let me know what was going on with Erik. I saw no signs of Harry or anyone else. Frank offered to check the house for me before I went in; I told him it wasn't necessary. I did my own check, closets and all. Then I called Alice. She, and Mr. Bailey were fine, just worn out, she said, from her visit with Lillian. I unpacked, showered, checked emails on my computer, then relaxed with a glass of wine. Frank called around four.

"We need you at the station. I'm sending a car."

"Umm...what kind of car? How about I just take a taxi?"

"My detail will pick you up. Can you be ready in ten minutes?"

"Yes."

XXXXX

When I arrived at Precinct 54, I was led to a room where Frank, Danny, and Erin were seated at a small table. Frank was dressed in a three-piece suit, and tie. Back to business as usual.

"Thanks for coming," Frank said, standing when I entered the room. "Danny hasn't gotten anything out of Mr. Raoul."

"I thought I could get the jerk to crack, but he's a cool one. Not even asking for his attorney," Danny added, standing as well. "Can you step over here, Ms. Richardson?"

I followed Danny, as did Frank and Erin. Danny opened heavy black curtains on one long wall, exposing a window looking into a room with an even smaller table, a chair on each side of the table. "Do you recognize the gentleman sitting at the table, Ms. Richardson? Don't worry. He can't see you."

"That's Erik Raoul," I said. I felt a slight shiver at the sight of him.

"You confirm that he is the waiter at a place you frequent known as The Sandwich Shoppe?"

"Yes."

"Ms. Richardson," Erin began, "according to Detective Reagan, you _think_ this man overheard a conversation you had concerning the police commissioner and yourself, and that he _might_ have seen a photo on your phone of the commissioner, but you didn't think at the time that he _did_ see this photo? Is all that correct?"

"Seriously, Frank?" I let out a heavy sigh. "Yes, _Assistant District Attorney _Erin Reagan, what _Detective _Danny Reagan has told you concerning_ Police Commissioner_ Frank Reagan is correct. It is possible that this man, _Erik Raoul,_ _may_ have overheard such conversation between me and Sybil Rosseni, and that he _might_ have seen a photo of the _Commissioner,_ but I cannot say with certainty that he did."

Hands in his pockets, Frank mulled over my words. At least this time he was making eye contact with me, instead of studying the damn floor.

"Nicole's right, time to cut the crap, Erin."

"Am I missing something here? Anyone care to fill me in?" Danny asked.

"Nicole and Erin have met. Doesn't matter how, they just have. Everyone here has met, everyone knows the circumstances of my relationship with Nicole. No reason for all this formality, all this pretense."

"Okay, we should refer to you, Ms. Richardson, as Dad's _good_ friend, _girl_ friend, what?"

"You simply refer to her as Nicole, and with respect. Is that clear, Danny?"

"Understood, Dad. My apologies, Ms. Richardson. Nicole. No disrespect intended."

"Now can we please get back to this case and the man in that room?"

"Yes, Dad, let's please do. You have nothing to hold this man on, Danny, much less charge him. It's all circumstantial evidence."

"Come on, Erin! This creep is blackmailing your dad! And you want to just let him go?"

"Of course I don't! But you leave me with no choice. You have nothing! You get me something solid on this guy, and I will bury him so deep in a dark prison cell he'll never see the light of day, but until then, send him home!"

"She's right, Danny. This isn't enough to go on, and we both know that," Frank said.

Danny pounded on the wall. "Dammit! It's him, I know it!"

"Then get me something I can use. In the meantime, we have a family dinner to attend. Do you want to explain why we're all late?" Then she turned to Frank. "Will Nicole be joining us for dinner, Dad?"

"Not today, Erin."

"Nicole, can you think of anything else? Anything more solid?" Erin asked me.

"I'm sorry, but no."

"You've all got to come up with something else. Do something to get him to make a move."

"Like _what?_" Danny asked.

"You're the detective, Danny. You figure it out!"

"About all we can do is agree to pay, set up a place to meet, and see if we can nab him that way," Frank said, reluctance in his voice.

"I was hoping not to have to do that, but we may have no other choice. I'll be damned if I'm going to let this scumbag get away with this."

"I hear you, Danny, I'm not too fond of the idea myself."

"What if we offered him a bit more bait?" I asked.

"Bait? Someone been fishing this weekend?" Danny asked, a smirk on his face.

"What do you mean, Nicole?" Erin asked.

"What if Sybil and I meet for lunch tomorrow? If we show up like all is normal, he won't think we suspect him of anything. I could tell Sybil all about our weekend, maybe show her a few photos. Perhaps a little _50 Shades of Reagan_? Something more that he would think he could use against Frank. Something that would interest the press more than just Frank seen leaving my house late at night."

"You got this kind of photos, Nicole? What kind of fishing trip you take her on, Dad?"

"Of course I don't have any such photos, but Erik wouldn't have to know that. If I pretend to show them to Sybil, talk about it, make him think we have them. If she's careful how she holds the phone, he'd never know the difference."

"I like your thinking, Nicole. I think you're on to something here. What do you think, Dad? He might not be able to resist. Juicy stuff, that you certainly wouldn't want leaked out, photos or not."

"You know what I think. I don't like it, I don't like it at all."

"It might work, Dad," Erin said. If he used the information to continue blackmailing you, we'd certainly know it was him."

"It would still be Nicole's word against his. No proof."

"Not if Nicole goes in wired, and Detective Baez is sitting at the next table, watching it all go down."

"Wired? No way, Danny. Forget it."

"Come on, Dad. She'll be safe. Baez will be right there. I'll be right outside, listening to every word. What have we got to lose? It just might work."

His eyes on me, Frank replied, "A lot to lose, that's what." He took a deep breath, then said, "Fine. But I insist on being there myself. I want to hear everything going on."

"Not a problem, Dad. We'll set it up tomorrow. Now, let's go eat dinner."

"Umm...Danny, I think you're forgetting something."

"Yeah, what's that, sis?"

"The man still sitting in there."

"Fine. I'll let him go."

"Give me a few minutes to get Nicole out of here first. See you two at dinner, and not a word of this to anyone. Got it?"

"Yes, Dad," they both said.

Frank walked me out of the station, to his ride waiting out in front. We both got in. He was silent during the drive to my house. When we arrived, he told the driver he would just be a minute, and then he walked me to the door.

"You don't have to do this tomorrow, Nicole, if you don't want to."

"I want to, Frank. I want to catch this guy, if it is him. I want this over, so we can move on with our lives."

He cupped my face in his hands, ran his fingers up into my hair. He kissed my lips tenderly, then pressed his forehead to mine, our lips just short of touching. "Nicole —"

"You're going to be late for family dinner, Frank," I said, trying to hold back the desire I had to drag him into the house and tear his clothes off. "Call me tonight. And don't worry, everything will be all right."

"I always worry when it comes to you, Nicole." He kissed me again, and then turned, walked back to the SUV, and got in. I watched as it drove away, and then went inside, locking my door behind me.


	16. Chapter 16

I had a restless night, as one might expect. My mind battled itself with thoughts of the weekend with Frank, words that were said, and not said, and, of course, the blackmailer. I tried to work out in my head what I would say, what story I would relate to Sybil that would interest Erik enough for him to make a careless move. Danny was convinced that Erik Raoul was the blackmailer, and the more I thought about it, the more certain I became as well. The idea that this young man I considered a friend was capable of such a violation of that friendship, not to mention the evil greediness that would motivate such a betrayal, overwhelmed me. I never considered myself naive, but in this instance, as Frank had said, I was incredibly so.

Sybil was shocked as well. I told her about the plan, and that we needed her help, but would understand if she was reluctant to participate.

"And miss out on all the entertainment? Not a chance! Let's show this worthless little worm how the pros do it!"

We made plans to meet at The Sandwich Shoppe at two in the afternoon, well past the noon rush so it wouldn't be crowded, and Erik wouldn't be busy. We wanted him to have plenty of time to eavesdrop on our conservation. Detective Baez arrived at my home around one-thirty, to "wire" me. I liked her immediately.

"So you get the pleasure of working with Danny Reagan?" I asked, as we stood in my bedroom, me in bra only from the waist up.

She laughed. "Yeah...I wouldn't exactly call it a pleasure. So...you and the Commissioner are friends?"

"Yes."

I flinched.

"Sorry about the cold hands. Attaching these wires where they can't be seen can get pretty personal. So, are you nervous?"

"A little." In truth, I was incredibly nervous, but I didn't want her, or anyone else, to know.

"You'll be fine. I'll be right there. And Danny will be just outside. I'll drop you off about a block away. That will give me time to get inside and settled before you and your friend arrive. Anthony Rosseni's wife, huh? You have quite the friends, Ms. Richardson."

"Call me Nicole, please."

"Okay, Nicole. You ready?"

I slipped on my blouse, hoping she didn't notice as I fumbled with the delicate buttons. Taking a deep breath, I replied, "Ready."

As I walked toward the shoppe, I quietly asked, "So, who all can hear me?"

"Me," Danny replied.

"And me," replied Detective Baez.

"And me." The last reply was Frank.

"This is pretty cool. I am so using this for my next novel. Detective Baez, you are the inspiration for my next heroine. Detective by day, naughty girl by night."

"Sounds just like you, Baez."

"You know it, Reagan. This Erik dude's pretty nice to look at. If it's not him, maybe you can set me up with him, Nicole."

"Isn't he a bit young for you, partner?"

"Nope. I like them young."

"You would."

"You know me too well, Reagan."

"I'm here. Heading in now. Listen and enjoy, guys. Danny, let me know when Frank's face turns red."

"You got it," he replied.

"Nicole."

"What, Frank?"

"Be careful."

Erik greeted me immediately with the usual peck on the cheek. "Nicole, good to see you." His touch made my skin crawl.

"You, too, Erik. How's my favorite waiter-slash-actor?"

"Fabulous. Things are really looking up for me. So, will Sybil be joining you?"

"Of course," I said, as he led me to our usual table. "She should be here any minute."

"Should I bring the usual drinks?"

"Please."

I surveyed the restaurant. Besides Detective Baez, there were only two other occupied tables. Baez had already ordered coffee and pie. She pretended to be engrossed in a hardback book opened on the table in front of her.

Sybil arrived within minutes. I stood to give her the usual hug. Then we both sat; she faced the detective. Erik immediately served our drinks. Sybil surprised me by starting the conversation while he was still at our table.

"So, how was your weekend away with Frank?"

"Incredibly interesting."

"How so?"

"Thanks, Erik." I waited for him to walk off before continuing. I noticed he didn't go far.

"Umm...let's just say I saw a few shades of Frank Reagan that I had no idea existed."

"_Shades_? As in Christian Grey Fifty?"

Shrugging my shoulders, and trying to keep an eye on Erik, I replied, "A little bit. Yes." Erik was wiping off the table behind Sybil. I hadn't noticed it in need.

"_Frank Reagan_? No way. I can't imagine that. Wait. I take that back. It's always the quiet, conservative ones, isn't it. So, spill all the juicy details, my darling. Don't skip a one."

"Well, first, the Police Commissioner Frank Reagan that has always shown up late in the evening in a fancy SUV, dressed in three-piece suit and tie, showed up at my house early Saturday morning as country hick Frank Reagan."

"Frank? Country hick? Rubbish."

"He was driving this old pickup truck, wearing a plaid shirt, and worn-out jeans. And he insisted on listening to horrible, twangy country music. The only thing missing was the chewing tobacco in his jeans' pocket."

"I don't believe a word of this, Nicole."

"I have the photo to show you." I removed my phone from my clutch bag, opened _Photos_, handed the phone to her.

"Oh my God! That's just wrong!"

"Isn't it!"

"You're doing great, Nicole, but you need to stop watching Erik so much. Just act normal, sweetie. Relax," Detective Baez said in my ear.

"Are you ladies ready to order?"

"I think let us have a few more minutes, Erik, to enjoy our wine while we chat," I replied.

"Very well, just let me know when you're ready. I'll be close by."

"I bet you will be."

Danny's voice in my ear startled me. I wasn't expecting him to say anything. I was embarrassed that he and Detective Baez — and Frank — were going to hear what I was about to say, but I knew it was necessary. The story needed to get a whole lot juicier, and soon.

"I'm not sure he's going to be too impressed with the Farmer Brown story, Nicole," Danny said.

"There's more," I said, speaking to both Danny and Sybil.

"Let's hear it, my darling. Where's the Fifty Shades of Grey stuff?"

"That night. I now know why Frank is so fond of ties. Of all kinds. He had packed several, a nice assortment. And handcuffs. Let's just say it was one kinky night!"

"Are you telling me that Frank Reagan is into bondage!"

"That. And more." I scrolled through the photos on my phone, showing her another one.

"How absolutely delicious!" She held the phone, low and close to her, as Erik walked past, dropping off the check two tables away from ours.

As he passed by our table once more, I said, "That's exactly what Frank said."

"Holy shit, I'm dying over here! I can't even keep a straight face. I'm going to blow my cover if you ladies keep this up."

"Well, I just sprayed soda all over the car. And Dad is as red as I've ever seen him."

I smiled at Danny's last comment.

"Before I scroll through for more photos, please tell me, Nicole, that there are none involving those cigars Frank is so fond of."

I heard a crash of some sort behind me. Instinctively, I turned to look. Detective Baez had knocked over her coffee cup.

"Could I get a towel over here? Sorry. I am so clumsy."

"I think that's enough, Nicole. More than enough." The stern voice in my ear was Frank's.

"Be right there, ma'am," Erik replied.

Once he had wiped the spilled coffee from her table, and poured her a fresh cup, I said, "I think we're ready to order, Erik."

He appeared antsy, nervous. "Can you give me just a few minutes? I'll be right back."

"Sure. No problem. We're in no rush, are we Sybil?"

He disappeared down a short hallway in the direction of the restrooms.

"I believe the man needs to take a leak, or something I don't want to think about. I think he just headed into the men's room," Detective Baez reported.

"Just sit tight until he returns, Baez," Danny replied. After a few seconds of silence, I heard him say, "I'll be damn, is he actually making a call phone in there? Keep quiet, everyone."

I could hear him answer the call. "This is Detective Reagan. How can I help you?"

I could barely hear the caller's voice. It sounded muffled, distorted.

"Detective Reagan, tell your old man I know all about his sick sexual pleasures, and the photos to prove it. I'm tired of messing with him. I want my money by the end of the day, or all of it ends up front page news. His sick habits, the rape and beating of a poor, helpless woman, all of it! You got that?"

As the distorted voice continued in my ear, Detective Baez headed toward the bathroom. "Just sit still, ladies," she whispered as she passed our table.

"I got it all, including you, you sick son of a bitch. Take him, Baez."

"With pleasure, Danny."

We could hear a loud thud, as if she had kicked in the restroom door.

"What the hell?"

"Police! Don't move!" Her shout could be heard without the wire.

"Put the phone down on the sink, and then your hands behind your back. Do it!"

"What's going on?"

"You're under arrest, Erik Raoul."

"For what?"

"Blackmail, for starters."

Danny entered just as she led a handcuffed Erik through the restaurant. Erik stopped at our table.

"You filthy bitches!" he screamed at us. "You think you're so much better than the rest of us, but you're nothing but slutty whores! Both of you!"

"Shut your mouth! Get this sorry piece of trash out of my sight before I do something he'll regret," Danny said to two uniformed police officers who had entered right behind him. Turning to us, he asked, "You two ladies okay?"

At that moment the door opened and closed. We all turned to see who had entered. Frank stood just inside the door, blocking it. He was dressed in his usual office attire. When the officers reached the door with Erik, Frank made no effort to move. Instead, he remained in place, hands in his pockets, looking as commanding as I had ever seen him. The officers did their best to salute him while holding on to their prisoner.

"As you were, Officers."

Frank glared at Erik, who suddenly looked small, mousy, cowardly. There were no signs of the magnificent Phantom he had deemed himself.

Finally stepping away from the door, Frank said, "Carry on, Officers."

He approached our table. "Are you two ladies all right?"

"I'm quite fine, Frank, but I don't think my dear friend is," Sybil replied.

My hands were clasped together on the table. I hadn't realized that they were trembling until Sybil reached for them, squeezed them. My heart was beating out of my chest, my eyes filling with tears.

Frank looked down at me, then scanned the room. The occupants of the other two tables still sat, obviously overwhelmed by what had taken place moments earlier. Dragging over a chair from the next table, Frank sat, took my hands from Sybil, held them in his own.

"Are you okay, Nicole?"

"No. But I will be. You need to leave, Frank, before someone comes running in with a camera."

"I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure you're okay. How about I take you home?"

"I'll take care of her, Frank," Sybil said. "You should go."

Danny had stepped over to speak with Detective Baez, who had been talking to the restaurant owner. Returning to our table, he said, "They're right, Dad, we need to get you out of here. Detective Baez will see that Nicole gets home safely, right, partner?"

"Right, Reagan. Don't worry, Commissioner, I'll take good care of her."

Studying me, Frank squeezed my hands.

"Go, Frank. Please. I'm fine."

He stood, turned to Detective Baez, and said, "See that you do, Detective."

He headed for the door, stopped, pulled a large bill from his pocket, and handed it to the owner. "This should cover the ladies' drinks." Then he left, Danny following behind him.

"Do you want me to go with you, Nicole?" Sybil asked, standing.

"No, thank you, I'll be fine. I'll call you later." I stood as well, hugged her. "Thank you for your help."

"Loved every delicious second of it!" she said.

"Let's get outta here, ladies," Baez said.

XXXXX

On the way home, Detective Baez commented, "So, it looks like you and the Commissioner are more than just friends."

"You could say that."

"Some ladies have all the luck."

I smiled. _Yes, we do_, I thought to myself.

Back in my home, she asked if I needed help removing the wire.

"No, I think I can do it myself, thanks. I'll just be a minute."

Standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom, I removed my blouse, then slowly began removing the wire, carefully removing the tape from my skin. I studied myself in the mirror; Erik's harsh words rang in my ears. Those words had cut deeply. He had called me a filthy bitch, a slut, a whore. I recalled Frank's words when he discovered my novel. _I don't read smut. And I don't keep company with people who do! _I remembered his words just two nights ago, on the porch of the rented lake cabin. _There's nothing dirty about how I feel about you, Nicole._

I did not write smut. I was not a slut. I was not a whore. And there was nothing dirty about my relationship with Frank, or my feelings for him. I loved him. I loved Frank Reagan with every part of my being, my soul. I loved him more than I thought possible to ever love anyone since Daniel. And though I had not allowed him to say the words, I knew that Frank loved me. Only one question remained.

_Why had I not allowed him to say those words? What was I afraid of? Was it a fear of making such a commitment after so many years? Or was there more to it? Was I afraid of losing Frank, as I had lost Daniel, once the words were spoken? The last man I had said those words to was Daniel, over thirteen years ago, the morning he left for the office, and never returned. Would Frank do the same? _

I slipped my blouse back on, and returned to the living room.

"Here you are, Detective Baez," I said, handing her the wire. "Can I offer you a drink?"

"No, I'm still on the clock. I need to get back to the precinct, make sure Danny hasn't done harm to our friend. And fill out the necessary paperwork that I'm sure he hasn't. Thank you, though."

"Perhaps another time, when you're not on duty."

"I'd like that."

"So would I. Thank you, for everything."

I saw her to the door, and then I returned to my bedroom, where I changed into my favorite pink jogging outfit. I had a lot to think about, a lot to sort out in my head, and nothing worked better for that than a nice long run through Central Park.


	17. Chapter 17

I was about thirty minutes into my jog when my phone rang. I continued to jog without stopping to answer, though I knew by the ringtone that it was Frank. Within seconds I received a voicemail message. Minutes later another call, again Frank, followed by another voicemail. I stopped, removed the phone from the pocket of my arm band, and listened to the voicemails, both from Frank.

First one —

_Nicole, this is Frank. Where are you? Call me._

Second one —

_Nicole, where the hell are you?_

I returned his call. He answered on the first ring.

"Where the hell are you, and why didn't you answer your damn phone?"

"Does no one answer their phone with a simple _Hello_? I'm in the park, Frank. What's up?"

"What the hell are you doing in the park? Nicole, are you okay?"

"I'm trying to jog! I'm fine, Frank."

"Well, you weren't fine when I left you in that sandwich shoppe. I didn't want to leave you there like that. I was worried about you, and then you don't answer your damn phone —"

"Frank. I'm okay. I _was _upset, but I'm fine now. Detective Baez took care of me, she saw me home. I just needed to clear my head, so I headed out for a jog. It's hard to answer the phone while jogging. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Well, you did!"

"I'm sorry. How about if I make it up to you this evening?"

"Depends on what you have in mind?"

"Anything you'd like, Frank, but I was thinking we could start the evening with dinner. You cooked for me all weekend. I'd like to return the favor. How about I cook dinner for the two of us?"

"You cook?"

"Yes! Once in a while."

"How about I just pick up Chinese or something?"

"You don't believe I can cook, do you?"

"I have no doubt you can, I just don't want you to go to the trouble this evening. And I'm not sure when I'll get away from the office. Both Baker and Garrett keep coming in and piling stuff on my desk, insisting I need to address them. I'll try to be there by seven."

"Great! And now I need to get off the phone and finish my jog, so I can get home and get pretty for you."

"You're always beautiful, Nicole. But if you really want to please me, wear the black dress."

"What black dress?"

"You know what black dress, Nicole."

"I promise to wear that dress, Frank, on one condition."

"What would that be?"

"That I won't be wearing it too long."

"I think I can handle that condition with no problem."

"Good. Bye, Frank."

XXXXX

It was almost eight by the time Frank arrived with dinner. We sat in the living room to eat. I asked him about Erik.

"Oh, he screamed for a while, insisting he had been set up, and demanding an attorney. Didn't have one of his own, though. Erin said she'd assign him a court appointed one. Tomorrow. Let him spend a night in a jail cell, see if he might have more to say tomorrow."

"Anything about the woman in the photo? Who she might be?"

"Not yet, but Erin was working on a court order to search his apartment. Hopefully Danny will find something there."

Frank brushed my hair back from my face with his fingertips. I always loved when he did this. I found it such a gentle, personal show of affection.

"You did good this afternoon, Nicole. I was proud of you. I know that wasn't easy for you."

"Sybil should get the credit. She made it so easy with her comments, I really didn't have to do that much myself."

"Yeah, about that. Not sure I'll be able to enjoy a good cigar again."

Laughing, I replied, "That was a good one, and _so_ Sybil. I'm just glad it's over, and we know who it was. I must admit, though, that I'm going to miss Harry sitting outside. I was getting pretty fond of him."

"Is that right?"

"He was cute," I teased, giving Frank a quick kiss and then gathering our plates and the left over take out food to carry to the kitchen. After putting everything away, I poured us both a fresh drink, and then returned to the sofa.

Frank immediately put one arm around me, caressing the side of my neck with his hand. "So, now maybe we can concentrate more on us? Hoping, of course, there is an_ us_?"

I turned my head so that I rubbed my face against his hand, then reached up for it with my own. I immediately felt his wedding band. Running my fingertips over it, I replied, "I hope there is, Frank. I notice you still wear your wedding ring."

"I do. And I notice you don't."

"I did for several years. I tried moving them to the other hand, but I hated what that said. _ I was married, but now I'm not, because my husband is dead."_

"It was the truth."

"Yes, but I didn't want, or feel the need, to advertise it to the world."

"So, when did you first take them off?"

"When I finally met someone else I wanted to be with. Or thought I wanted to be with. The first time I was in his bed, the only time, actually, I happen to notice my hand, and, and there were the rings, just glaring at me. I suddenly felt as though I was cheating on Daniel. I got out of the bed, put my clothes back on, and went home. I never saw the guy again, never heard from him again."

"So, that's when you stopped wearing them?"

"No, actually, that's when I stopped dating. At least for a while. I realized I wasn't ready to move on with my life. A few years later I decided I was. And that's when I took them off."

"So, you think it's time I took mine off?"

"Only you can answer that, Frank. Are you ready to move on from Mary?"

"If you're asking if Mary can be replaced in my heart, the answer is no. Not replaced. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. She was my first love. The mother of my four children. But is there room in my heart for someone else? Yes."

"That's good to know."

"And you?"

"I loved Daniel dearly. He was the love of my life. Like you with your Mary, I miss him. I will never forget him. But I am ready to love again. I don't want to spend the rest of my life alone. At least you have your family, your children, your grandchildren. I don't even have that."

"Family is important, and I thank God daily for mine. But they don't fill every need in my life."

"What else do you need, Frank?"

"A warm body in my bed would be nice."

"You could always get a dog." I don't know why I said that, it just came out.

"Really, Nicole? Can you be serious for more than one minute? I'm trying to tell you how I feel about you, and that is what you have to say? Get a damn dog?"

"I'm sorry. So tell me, Frank."

"Maybe I'm not going about it the right way. I'm not one of the leading men in your novels. It's been a very long time since I told a woman how I feel about her. I'm not sure how to do it."

"It's pretty simple, Frank. You just say the words."

"What words would that be?"

"Whatever words you want to say, whatever words your heart is telling you to say."

"That's what I'm trying to do! I'm trying to tell you that I love you! I've been trying to tell you that for three days now, and you keep cutting me off! You are what I want in my life, not a damned dog! I love you, Nicole."

"I'm glad to hear that, Frank. Because I love you, too. I love you _so _very much_."_

He took my face in his hands, kissed my lips. Running his hands up my neck and into my hair, as he looked deep into my eyes, he asked, "Are you sure, Nicole?"

"I am so very sure, Frank. I love you."

He took a deep breath, as if relieved, resting his forehead against mine. With his lips not quite touching mine, he whispered, "I was so afraid you didn't. When I tried to tell you at the cabin Saturday night, and you stopped me."

"I'm sorry. I just wasn't sure I was ready to say the words that night, or to hear you say them to me. I wasn't sure I was ready to make that commitment. But I am ready now. There's nothing I want more."

"Good. So, now that that is settled, there's only one thing left to do."

"What's that, Frank?"

"To get you out of that dress."

XXXXX

When I woke the next morning, I would have sworn it was all a dream, except for the mussed sheets on the other side of my bed, and the faint scent of Frank's cologne. And his warm body lying next to mine.


	18. Chapter 18

It was 6:45 when I woke. Frank was lying next to me, on his side, facing me.

"Good morning," he said, touching my hair, brushing it from my face.

"Good morning. How long have you been awake?"

"Awhile."

"Why didn't you wake me?" I asked as I snuggled next to him.

"I was enjoying watching you sleep." He wrapped his arms around me, pulled me closer to him, kissed my forehead.

"Now that you're awake..."

He rolled me over onto my back. I slipped my arms around his neck as he began kissing me, first on the lips, then my neck, his mouth working its way down, as his hand did the same. I ran my fingers through his hair, enjoying the pleasure of his mustache tickling my skin, the warm touch of his hand as it moved from one breast to the other. I felt my body tense as it moved lower, and then —

"Damn! Tell me that's your phone, and not mine."

"Sorry, Frank. Not mine."

"I have to get it."

I touched his face. "I know."

He took my hand, kissed it. "Don't go away." He kissed me, then turned away, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.

"What's up, Garrett, that couldn't wait this morning? It better be good."

As he listened, he swung his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge of it. I sat up as well, gently caressing his back, kissing him and then pressing my body close to his.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Get Danny."

"I'm not sure how long, Garrett, but I'll be there as soon as I can."

Frank disconnected the call, then continued to sit. The only sound in the room was the ticking of an old clock in the bookshelves across from the bed. I couldn't see his face, but I had no doubt his lips were pursed.

"Everything okay, Frank?"

Frank took a deep breath before answering. "No. I have to go," he said, turning toward me. "I'm sorry, Nicole. How about a rain check?"

"As many as you want, Frank. I love you."

"I was hoping you'd still feel that way this morning."

"Always, Frank." I caressed the side of his face with my fingertips. "Now go. Garrett Moore and New York City await you."

He cupped my face in his hands, kissed me. "You have no idea how much I love you, Nicole."

I watched as he slipped into his clothes from the night before, wanting desperately to know what Garrett had said, but not asking, knowing he would not say if it was police business, and I could only assume that it was.

Sitting on the edge of the bed to put on his socks and shoes, he said, "I like waking up next to you, by the way. That could get to be a habit."

"You're welcome any time."

"Good to know. I'll call you later." He quickly kissed me, then headed out of the room.

"Frank," I called out to him. "Whatever's going on this morning, please be careful."

I remained in bed for several minutes after I heard him close the front door, savoring the memory of the short time with him this morning, as well as the night before. I was so in love with him. Though I had been sure he loved me as well, having him say the words had been more incredible than I could have imagined._ New York Police Commissioner Francis Reagan loved me_. The thought of it sent a sweet sensation throughout my body. That, and the thought of his touch, his warm body next to mine.

_Damn that Garrett and New York City for taking him away from me this morning! _

XXXXX

Finally leaving the comfort of the bed, I slipped on a short pink robe and matching house slippers, and made my way to the living room. I checked the front door to make sure Frank had locked it on his way out, then I moved on to the kitchen, where I started a pot of coffee, having not gotten it ready the night before as usual. While waiting on it to brew, I turned my computer on, then headed back to the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth, and then the bedroom to make the bed. I could still smell Frank's cologne in the air. I was still concerned about his call from Garrett, and wished I had asked him about it. Perhaps he could have told me something that would have eased my mind. I had a very bad feeling about it that I just couldn't shake. He had told Garrett to get Danny. That couldn't be good, I was certain of that.

Once the coffee was ready, I poured a large mug of it, then straightened the living room sofa cushions where Frank and I had sat and talked the night before, recalling some of the things that had been said.

_If you're asking if Mary can be replaced in my heart, the answer is no. Not replaced. Not a day goes by that I don't think about her. She was my first love. The mother of my four children. But is there room in my heart for someone else? Yes._

How much room in his heart did Frank have?

_You have no idea how much I love you, Nicole._

Perhaps enough. I would take what I could get, I thought to myself as I carried our empty glasses to the kitchen.

I found myself thinking of Daniel. I knew he would approve of me loving someone else. I was pretty sure what he would say.

_It's been over thirteen years, Nicole. What took you so damn long? I know I left big shoes to fill, but honestly, babe!_

I found it so strange. Daniel and Frank were as different as night and day, yet I loved both of them with all my heart. While I didn't know, I felt sure Mary Reagan and I were just as different.

While enjoying my second cup of coffee, I checked my emails, responded to the ones in need of a reply, then checked my phone, just in case Frank had called and I had missed it. Nothing.

I decided to go for a morning jog. With the warmer days of mid June, mornings were more pleasant for jogging than the afternoons.

I was gone for just over an hour. The second I walked in and closed the front door behind me, my phone rang. It wasn't Frank, though. It was Sybil.

"Good morning," I said as I answered. "What's up?"

"Umm...I can tell by your cheery voice that you don't have your television on, do you, Nicole?"

"No. I don't. I just walked in the door. I've been out jogging. Why? What's up?"

"Nicole, you need to turn it on."

"What's going on, Sybil?"

"It's Frank."


	19. Chapter 19

_It's Frank._

I froze at Sybil's words. I'm sure my heart stopped beating. I could not breath. I dropped the phone. All I could think of were our last words before Frank left this morning.

_Nicole! Nicole! Are you there? Are you okay?_

I could hear Sybil's voice on the floor.

_NICOLE! Answer me or I'm calling 911!_

I reached down and picked the phone up off the floor. I held it in my hand as I made my way to a chair in the living room. My legs were weak, I felt as if I was walking on wet noodles.

_NICOLE!_

"I'm here," I somehow managed.

"Did you turn on your television?"

"No. Please, just tell me, Sybil. Is he dead?"

"No! God no!"

I closed my eyes, covered my hand with my mouth, sucked in air. I was overwhelmed with relief.

"Nicole! For god sake, just turn your damn TV on and you'll see him."

I did as she said. There was no need to find the right station. There he was. The camera, wherever it was — an overhead helicopter I could only assume — was zoomed in on him. He was surrounded by other men, including Danny. Frank had on his sunglasses, but I could still see the concern on his face, if not in his eyes. He and Danny were talking, while two others helped him into a bullet-proof vest.

_God, Frank, what are doing?_

"What's going on, Sybil?"

Whatever it was, I had no doubt it had something to do with his early morning call from Garrett. I hadn't asked him any questions about the call, just told him to be careful. Wearing a bullet-proof vest wasn't exactly what I had in mind.

"The best I can gather, Nicole, is that some screwed up, sicko dude is holding a family hostage inside, and is demanding to speak to Frank, and only Frank. I think there is a mother and father inside the house, and three small children."

"Why Frank?"

"I have no idea. There's more, though, Nicole."

"What?"

"The guy supposedly has a large bomb strapped to his chest. Says he'll blow himself and all the family up if Frank doesn't go in and talk to him."

I closed my eyes again, reached for my mouth, trying to stifle the unexpected whimper.

"I have to go there."

"You what?"

"I can't just sit here and watch it go down on the TV. I've already done that once, Sybil, I'm not doing it again."

"Nicole, sweetheart. This isn't 9-11. Calm down. This is normal police stuff for Frank. You know that."

"He's supposed to be sitting in a damn plush office, arguing with Garrett Moore, not going into hostage situations involving bombs!" I screeched, unable to control my emotions, my fear. "He told me he loved me last night. I told him I loved him. I can't lose him, Sybil. I can't go through that again. I won't survive it this time."

"Nicole, you are getting way too emotional with this. I am on my way over. STAY PUT! Don't you dare leave before I get there, do you hear me?"

"I hear you. But please hurry."

The moment I disconnected her call, I received another one.

"Nicole, are you aware of what's going on with Dad this morning? Are you watching it? Are you okay?''

"Yes, I'm watching. No, I'm not okay. Why is he doing this, Erin? Why is he going in, and not someone else?"

"Because it's his job. It's what he does. He'll be fine. Danny is right there with him. He won't let anything happen to him, I promise. Hopefully it will all be over in a few minutes, but I can come over and sit with you if you'd like. I'm not due in court until later this afternoon."

"No. That's okay. Sybil is on her way over. Thank you, though. Thank you, Erin, for thinking of me. I know you must be worried as well."

"Yes, of course I am. But these situations have always been a part of my life. This is new to you. But you will adjust to it, if you stay around long enough, just like the rest of us, including Linda."

I continued to watch the screen as I waited for Sybil. Frank had gone inside the house, alone, and unarmed, I assumed. Nothing else was happening, just the reporter going over the situation as he knew it to be. I made note of the location when the reporter's cameraman focused in on the corner street signs. The incident was not all that far away. I recalled hearing a number of sirens during my jog, but had thought little of them. _Why had it not occurred to me that whatever was going on involved Frank?_

I watched out the window as Sybil arrived in a cab. I ran out immediately to keep the taxi from leaving, not even thinking to grab my handbag, or my key, or to even lock my front door.

"What are you doing, Nicole?"

"I'm going there, Sybil. You can come with me or not, your choice."

"That is such a bad idea, sweetie."

"I know that. But I'm still going," I replied as I jumped into the backseat of the taxi.

Shaking her head in disapproval, Sybil joined me.

When I told the cab driver where to take us, he balked. "There's bad stuff going on there. No way am I taking you to that location."

Sybil reached into her handbag, pulled out a very large bill.

"Will this change your mind?" she asked, handing it to the driver.

"I'll get you as close as I can. What are you ladies, some kind of thrill seekers? From what I heard, a bunch of people are about to get blown up, including that police commissioner guy."

He dropped us off about a block away. I ran as fast as I could to the location. Sybil did her best to keep up with me. A huge area around the house was blocked off with yellow police tape. Squad cars were everywhere, as were newsteam trucks. The crowd of spectators was large. I pushed my way through the crowd until I reached the yellow tape. There were a number of police officers just inside the tape, as well as outside it, working hard to keep the crowd pushed back. I managed to maneuver through the crowd until I stood in line with the front door, where Frank had been standing earlier, preparing to go inside the home. Danny was still at that same spot. He turned toward the crowd just in time to see me. The instant frown on his face left no doubt that he was not pleased to see me.

Walking over to the tape, he said, "Jeez, Nicole. You have no business being here."

"I know, but I had to come."

He let out a huge puff of air, looked at the ground, then back at me, shaking his head in disappoval.

"You stay put, Nicole. No matter what happens. You got that?"

"I got it," I replied.

"Good. Because if you make one move, any attempt at making a scene, or getting in the way, I swear I will have you arrested, and thrown into the nearest squad car. I should do that anyway."

He let out another deep breath, gave me another huge frown. It was obvious he was totally disturbed by my presence. He started to walk away, then turned back.

"He'll be okay, Nicole. I promise you." Then he rejoined the other officers.

I stood watching the front door of the house, praying for Frank to walk back outside, unarmed. Sybil stood by my side, holding my hand, gripping it tightly.

I have no idea how much time passed before the front door finally opened. It seemed like an eternity, but I'm sure it had been only a few minutes. Several members of the SWAT team that had the house surrounded ran toward the door as three small children, barefoot and wearing pajamas and came running out. The children were immediately scooped up, and carried across the yellow tape to safety. About two minutes later, the mother and father came running out of the was in a long robe and house shoes, he wore pants and a T-shirt only. They, too, were secured by the SWAT team. I expected to see Frank walk out behind them, but he didn't. I tried to keep my eyes on the front door, but also Danny. I could tell he was communicating with someone, and I wondered if it was Frank.

About five minutes later, two men entered the house through the front door. By the way they were dressed, I was sure they were members of the bomb squad. _If they were going in to dismantle the man's bomb, why was Frank still inside? Was the man not allowing him to leave? What was going on? Was Frank even still alive? _No sounds had been heard from inside the house.

Several more minutes passed. Then the same SWAT team members who had rescued the parents and children rushed into the house. More time passed before they walked outside with the hostage taker, who was secured with handcuffs. He appeared to be a young man, perhaps mid to late twenties, very disheveled in appearance, dressed in army fatigues. Moments later Frank appeared at the front door. He stopped just outside it, reached inside the bullet-proof vest, pulled out his sunglasses, placed them on his face. Danny rushed to his side. They spoke for a second, then walked in the direction of the tape and the crowd. Frank scanned the area, then he stopped walking, his eyes focused on me. For several seconds he held my gaze, then made a quick, single nod of his head. Then he turned, and followed the two suited men I recognized as his detail, who had just approached him.

**A/N — I swear this was written before this Friday night's episode, which I just watched last night. I did learn something from it though, something I had considered but wasn't sure about. Something that Frank will explain to Nicole in the next chapter. Well done, Jamie. :)**


	20. Chapter 20

I heard nothing from Frank following the hostage situation; he did not call as he had said he would. I kept telling myself that he was just busy with everything going on, and didn't have the time, but it still made me nervous. I had erred by showing up at the scene; as Sybil had said, I had allowed my emotions to cloud my better judgment. While Frank had shown no sign of disapproval, it was inconceivable to me that he would not be as unhappy to see me there as Danny had been. He had nodded to me, but I believed it was his way of letting me know everything was okay, that he was not showing approval of my presence.

Around three in the afternoon, I sent him a text message.

_I will have dinner ready and warming in the oven around seven, if interested. Just let me know if you won't make it, or if a different time is better._

Despite receiving no immediate reply, I continued with the plan. A trip to the market would be required, and I needed some activity to occupy my time and my mind. I still needed to do some last minute editing of my latest manuscript, but I absolutely could not concentrate on writing. Thankfully, Kerri was on vacation this week, or she would be hounding me hourly for it. I would devote the next morning to it, and stay with it until done, no matter what.

I had just returned from the market when my phone rang. Recognizing the ring tone as Frank's, I quickly set the grocery bags on the counter, allowing one to tip over. I fumbled through my handbag for my phone while chasing after tomatoes that were rolling across the kitchen floor.

"Hello," I replied, barely answering before the call went to voice mail.

"Didn't think you were going to answer."

"Sorry. Chasing tomatoes."

"Chasing what?"

"Nothing. Did you get my text about dinner?"

"Yes. That's why I'm calling."

Butterflies declared war in the pit of my stomach as I held my breath and prepared for his decline.

"As you can imagine, it's been one hell of an afternoon. Didn't see your text until now. Offer still good?"

"Of course it is, Frank."

"Can we make it eight?"

"Eight is fine. Whenever is good for you."

"Need me to bring anything, bottle of wine—"

"Just your handsome, sexy self, Frank. That's all I need."

"See you at eight then." He paused, but I could tell he had something else to say. I waited. "Nicole, we need to talk about this morning."

"I know. See you at eight."

"Nicole."

"What?"

"I love you."

"I love you, Frank."

While preparing the dinner, I turned on the television to catch the evening local news, knowing the hostage situation would be the headline news of the day. It was pretty much a recap of the morning, with video of Frank preparing to go into the house, the held hostages running out, the young man escorted out in handcuffs by the SWAT team, and finally Frank. I was always amazed at how calm, commanding, and in complete control he appeared on camera, regardless of the situation. The video also included footage of the crowd. No surprise when the camera zoomed in on Sybil.

_No sign of Anthony Rosseni, but it appears his lovely wife Sybil was present, with a front row seat. Making sure possible future Mayor Anthony Rosenni's Police Commissioner remains in one piece, one can only assume_ was the reporter's comment.

Early polls showed Anthony Rosseni way ahead of the sitting mayor with the election still months away, and rumors had been flying concerning the friendship of Anthony and Frank. Frank had tried to distance himself from the Rosseni's, not wanting to jeopardize any good relationship he might have with his present boss. It was a tricky situation for him, and any knowledge of our relationship and my friendship with Sybil would certainly add fuel to the gossip. That had been one reason Sybil had rushed him out of The Sandwich Shoppe the day before.

I also appeared in the video, but thankfully no acknowledgement was made of me, or that I was with Sybil. I was still dressed in my jogging clothes, including a cap, so very little of my face was exposed. I was just part of the crowd. Even more thankful was the fact that my short discussion with Danny hadn't been captured on tape.

The young man in Army fatigues who had broken into the young family's home early in the morning and held them hostage for hours with a bomb strapped to his chest had been identified as Private First Class Adrian Middlefield, recently home from an extended tour in Afghanistan. Friends of his interviewed that afternoon said he had shown some signs of depression since his return, but they were none-the-less shocked by his actions of the morning. One young woman said he had recently been dumped by his long time girlfriend.

Once I had the meal prepared and in the oven, I switched the television off, turned on some soft music, dimmed a few lights, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up before Frank arrived.

XXXXX

Frank arrived just minutes after eight. The weariness caused by the day's events was evident by the shadows under his eyes, the deep lines of his face.

"You look like you could use a drink."

"Make it a double," he replied, removing his coat and tie, and laying them across the back of the sofa. I noticed it was the same suit from this morning, but a different tie. I wondered if it was the same shirt. I doubted that it was. _Had he gone home before going into the office this morning?_ Knowing Frank, he had a drawer of clean shirts and ties in his office._ Perhaps I would offer him such a drawer in my bedroom, _I thought to myself, recalling his words from the morning. _I like waking up next to you, by the way. That could get to be a habit._

I poured his drink at the bar. Before I could turn around, I felt the closeness of his body as one arm slipped around my waist. His breath warmed the back of my neck.

"I love the way you smell. It gets to me every time," he said as he nuzzled my hair. I felt my body tense as he moved my hair out of the way, his fingertips just brushing my shoulders. Suddenly both arms tightened around my waist as he kissed my neck.

"Are you okay, Nicole?" he whispered in my ear as he pulled me closer to him.

Closing my eyes and leaning back against him while reaching up to touch his cheek, I replied, "I am now."

"You know you and Sybil shouldn't have been there this morning."

Damn. I wasn't quite ready to have that discussion, but I did find relief and encouragement in the fact that I was in his arms when he brought it up.

"I know. I was just so frightened, so worried about you, I just needed to be there. I just couldn't stay home and watch on the television."

Still holding his drink in hand, I turned to face him.

"You had better take this before I spill it." I handed him his drink, then continued. "I'm sorry, Frank. It won't happen again. I promise. I just had this horrible fear of losing you, I just got too carried away with my feelings."

Frank took a large swallow of his drink.

"Let's sit, and talk about this."

We sat in our usual spot on the sofa, his arms wrapped around me, holding me close, my head resting on his chest.

"You're not going to lose me, Nicole. I'm not going anywhere, nothing is going to happen to me."

Raising my head from his chest, I replied, "How can you say that, Frank? You walked into a house this morning, with no protection other than a stupid bullet-proof vest, where a sick man waited for you with a bomb attached to his chest."

"A very young, troubled soldier, in need of attention. And I had plenty of protection, Nicole."

"What protection?"

"A very large number of members of the NYPD department, a SWAT team, and a sharp-shooter, who had the young man in his sight through the kitchen window, ready to take him out at any moment."

"And you were aware of that?"

"Yes, I knew that before I went in. All I had to do was make sure he stayed in front of that window, and he did."

"Wouldn't the bomb have gone off if he had been shot?"

"Not if he was shot between the eyes. The bomb wasn't on a timer. He was holding the detonator in his hand. And I had every confidence in the world my sharp shooter would hit his target if it became necessary."

"So why didn't he just take him out without you going in?"

"We were dealing with a young kid who had served his country and come home with problems, as so many do. He had no intention of blowing himself up. He just wanted — needed — attention, and what better way to get it then to take a young family hostage, threaten to blow them and yourself up, and demand a personal meeting with the Police Commissioner? Tell me, Nicole, do you honestly think you would still love or respect me if I put my life ahead of his? Or those three little children inside?"

"Frank, I can't imagine you could do anything that would keep me from loving you, but no, I wouldn't want you to do that, and I know you never would. It doesn't stop me from worrying about you, though."

"I understand that, and I understand where you're coming from. But I'm not Daniel, Nicole. Daniel was an innocent victim, who simply went to work one day, and was taken down by a bunch of evil cowards. He, just like all the others that day, didn't have a chance, had no warning, no way to get out of harm's way, or protect themselves. I am not an innocent victim. I am well-trained, with over thirty years of experience in the field. I may be older, and a step slower, but I still know how to handle a situation, and I have 35,000 of the finest police force in the world watching my back."

He caressed my face, touched my hair.

"The majority of the time I sit in the comfort of a nice office, shuffling paperwork, attending meetings, going round and round with Garrett, and even Baker, but there are times my position requires that I put myself in danger, like the situation this morning. If there is going to be an "us" as we discussed last night, you have to be able to handle these situations. The question is, do you think you can?"

"I don't have a choice, now do I?"

"Of course you have a choice."

"No, Frank, I don't."

I slipped my arms around his neck, kissed him.

"I'm too far into this to turn back now."

"Good. Glad to know that. Now, how about some of that dinner that smells so good, and then perhaps we can continue where we left off this morning. I was thoroughly enjoying myself when my phone rang."


	21. Chapter 21

Frank stayed over for the second night in a row. This time there were no interruptions by early morning phone calls. I loved waking up next to him, I hoped it did become a habit.

Over breakfast Frank updated me on the latest progress with the blackmail case against Erik Raoul. Erin had secured a search warrant for Erik's apartment. While Danny was working the hostage situation, Detective Maria Baez, along with two uniformed officers, had searched the apartment, confiscating Erik's personal laptop. Numerous emails were discovered between Erik and twenty-five-year-old woman by the name of Juliet Aamond, a part-time student enrolled at the same drama school as Erik. The emails contained information of the blackmail. According to Frank, Miss Aamond had devised the whole scheme; they were to share in the blackmail money. She had been arrested. After consulting with their court-appointed attorney, she and Erik had pled no contest — in the hope of a lighter sentence. Erin made them no such promise. The most shocking revelation of all was that Miss Aamond was the woman in the photo, the woman Frank supposedly had attacked, beaten, and raped. She had allowed — insisted — that Erik beat her up, so that the photo appeared legitimate.

I was overwhelmed — and angered — by that knowledge. How could anyone do such a thing? I had lost sleep over this young woman, the image of her, the pain she had endured at the fists of some violent creature, whether her wounds would heel, both physically and emotionally. And it had all been planned and carried out for money.

"Welcome to the real world of greed, evil, corruption," Frank said.

"I don't like that world," I replied. "I will leave it to you, and Danny, and Jamie, and Erin to fight, while I escape into my fantasy world of fiction, love, and romance."

"Love and romance exist in the real world, Nicole. Aren't we proof of it?" Frank reached across the table for my hand.

"Yes, we are." I stood, allowing our hands to remain locked as I stepped around the table to where Frank sat. "We are the perfect example of it."

Frank pushed his chair away from the table, pulled me into his lap.

"Remind me to send Sybil Rosseni a thank-you note attached to several dozen roses for introducing us."

"And allow her to gloat! NEVER!" I teased as I wrapped my arms around Frank's neck.

Frank began untying my short robe just as his phone rang.

"If that's Garrett, he's fired!"

"Could I have the honor?" I asked, moving off Frank's lap so he could reach for his phone.

I listened to Frank's side of the conversation while I cleared the table and poured myself a fresh cup of coffee.

_Yes, Pop. I know it's the second morning I haven't been home when you got up, and that my bed hasn't been slept in. Are you keeping count, marking it on the kitchen chalkboard or something? We'll discuss it tonight. And don't bother to go by the cleaners today. I'll stop on my way to the office. I'm in need of a fresh suit. I'm not discussing my shorts with you, Pop. Goodbye, Pop. Yes, I will be home tonight. Yes, for dinner. I'm hanging up now. Love you, Pop._

Shaking his head, he asked, "Do they ever stop being parents regardless of our age?"

"Strange question coming from you. I did recently witness you parenting—" I cleared my throat, then continued, "_scolding_, your forty-year-old daughter concerning her choice of men."

"It's not the same thing!"

"Of course it is. And you'll still be doing the same thing twenty years from now."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Twenty years from now? I don't want to even think about that."

"Just think, Frank. You'll be a great grandfather by then."

"Thanks. You really know how to make a guy feel old, don't you?"

"Now, Frank," I replied, snuggling up next to him and wrapping my arms around him. "Did I make you feel old last night? Or this morning?"

"No. That you did not. Which reminds me, where was I when Pop called?" He reached for my robe.

"I think you were about to be late for the office."

Frank sighed. "I think you're right. And Lord knows I'd hear about it from Garrett."

He kissed me. "Thanks for dinner and breakfast. And everything in between, including the morning shower."

"My pleasure. All of it. Especially the in-between. So, I won't see you tonight?"

"No. I better stay home with Pop. Haven't seen much of him lately. And get clean underwear." Frank smiled his big smile.

Laughing, I replied, "About that. Just so you know, there are empty drawers in my bedroom. As well as closet space."

"Good to know. I'll keep it in mind. Gotta go, and conquer some of that evil in the world. Call you later. I love you."

"Umm, Frank, I have a lot of writing to finish up today. Could you please conquer that evil from your office?"

"I'll do my best."

XXXXX

I spent the morning and part of the afternoon completing my manuscript, and then sent it off to Kerri. I was relieved to have it done and out of the way.

I called Sybil, updated her on Erik Raoul and his partner, and Frank. I even passed on Frank's thank you, adding my own. She gloated. I allowed her. She deserved it. She had finally set me up with Mr. Right. We made plans to meet for lunch the next day. We were going to check out a new place she had read good reviews about. While I loved the owner of The Sandwiche Shoppe and hated to not give him our business, I just wasn't ready to go back there. Someday soon, perhaps, but not right away.

So far the blackmail had not made the news. When I questioned Frank about that, he said, "All I can say is, once in a while my chief of staff actually earns his large salary."

I had no idea of the size of Garrett Moore's salary, but as far as I was concerned, the man deserved a raise. I had little doubt, though, that the hostage situation, and the huge news coverage it received, helped.

XXXXX

I didn't see Frank again until late Thursday night. He had a business dinner to attend that evening, and came over afterward, with a bag.

"Are you sure about this, Nicole?" He asked, before unpacking the contents of the bag and placing them in an empty drawer of my bedroom chest.

"I'm sure, Frank. Very sure."

XXXXX

Friday night Frank and his dad hosted their monthly Poker night. He said as much as he'd like to see me afterward, he would be much too wasted to leave the house, but he did want to take me out for dinner Saturday night, that he still owed me one.

"You mean a real date, Frank, where you actually come to my house and pick me up and everything?" I teased.

"I think it's time, don't you? After all, we've had sex, spent the night together, even had a dirty weekend away, confessed our love to one another, seems like it might be time to have that first real date."

"I think it is, Frank. I think it is."

We had a wonderful evening at a very quiet, romantic Italian restaurant. I even bought a new dress for the occasion. Though Frank was quite fond of _the_ black dress, I thought it time for a new one. He liked the new one equally as well, if not better, and enjoyed getting me out of it later that night.

The next morning he left early, saying he would see me later in the day. The day had finally come that I looked forward to, but also dreaded — Sunday dinner with the Reagan family.

_**A/N - Coming up next — Sunday dinner. It is the Reagan family dinner, so expect a bit of conflict, even with a guest at the table, but mostly fun. It is written. I plan to post it Saturday morning. **_


	22. Chapter 22

Frank had said he would send his detail to pick me up for dinner with his family, so I was surprised when he showed up at my front door.

"I thought you were just sending a car for me?"

"It just didn't seem quite right," he replied. "You look lovely, by the way," he said, opening the door for me.

"Thank you," I replied as I buckled my seat belt, straightened my blouse beneath it. I had chosen wear a simple pink silk blouse and black knee-length skirt with two inch black sandals. "I just never know how to dress when about to be surrounded by the hounds."

"Is that how you feel?"

"Let's just say I'm nervous."

"I was always under the impression Nicole Richardson had nerves of steel."

"Really? And what gave you that impression?"

"You, Nicole. You're always cool, calm, in control. That was one of the things that first attracted me to you. You were always so sure of yourself. Arrogant, almost."

"Arrogant?"

"It was meant as a compliment. You certainly handled yourself well during Danny's interrogation."

"You mean the first time you threw me to the hounds?" I teased.

"I kinda did that day, but it's not like you haven't met anyone today. You've met Jamie, Danny, Erin."

"I know, but one on one. Now it's the whole Reagan family. I want to make a good impression."

"You'll do fine, Nicole, they will all love you, just like I do. You and Erin seem to get along at the lake."

"Yes, and Danny just adores me," I said sarcastically.

"Danny's just Danny. Don't let him get to you."

"I'll try," I said, letting out a large sigh.

XXXXX

When we arrived, the family was already seated at the large dining room table.

"So, where's Grandpa?" I could hear a young woman with short hair ask. I assumed she was Erin's daughter, Nicky.

"He went to pick up his sweetie," Danny replied, unaware of us standing in the doorway.

Erin, who had noticed, cleared her throat in an effort to get his attention.

"Yes, I did," Frank said. "And here we are."

Everyone at the table turned. Danny, Jamie, and the elderly gentlemen at one end of the table quickly stood. Danny wiped his mouth with his napkin, grinning sheepishly. Frank led me to an empty chair at the end of the table next to Erin.

"Everyone, I'd like you to meet my sweetie, Nicole Richardson. Some of you have already met her, those of you who haven't—"

A blond woman seated directly across from where I stood and next to Danny, his wife Linda I assumed, interrupted. "Wait, who's met her already?"

Raising her hand, Erin said, "Me."

"Me," Jamie said, also raising his hand.

Slowly raising his hand, same sheepish grin on his face, Danny said, "And me."

Looking up at him, Linda spoke quietly. "You've met her? You met your dad's girlfriend, and you didn't even tell me he had one?"

Frank loudly cleared his throat. "If you'll allow me to finish, Linda, you can all meet her."

"Oh, sorry Frank."

"May I continue?"

"Yes, please do."

I was still standing with the men, my hand on the back of the chair.

"Nicole, I'd like you to meet Danny's wife, Linda." She smiled, but it seemed forced. Frank continued around the table, "Danny's sons, my grandsons, Jack and Sean, and this is Pop." He pointed toward each person as they were introduced.

"Very nice to meet you, Nicole."

"Nice to meet you, sir."

"Please, call me Henry."

"Continuing around the table, Frank said, "You've met Jamie."

"Nice to see you again, Ms. Richardson."

"You, too. And please, Nicole."

"Welcome, Nicole."

"And last, the young woman you share a name with, my beautiful granddaughter, Nicky."

"Also known as my daughter," Erin added, smiling proudly at Nicky.

"Very nice to meet you, Nicky. I've heard a lot about you."

"Don't believe any of the good stuff," Jamie teased.

"That's not nice!" Nicky replied, hitting Jamie on the leg with her cloth napkin.

"Ouch, that hurts!"

"Aww. Did the little girl hurt you with her little napkin?" Danny teased.

"She hit me with that metal thing around it. It did hurt!"

"That thing, Harvard, is called a napkin ring," Danny replied.

"Thank you, Danny. I see you're still spending your nights watching Giada."

"Hey, she ain't a bad one to watch. Just saying," Danny replied.

Frank sighed. "And so it begins. I thought they would at least wait until you were seated, Nicole."

He kissed my cheek before pulling out my chair, taking his place at the head of the table once I was seated. Henry, Jamie, and Danny followed suit.

"So, Danny, how did you and Nicole meet?" Linda asked.

Jack interrupted. "I'm starving. Can someone please say the blessing so we can start eating?"

"With all that pizza you ate this afternoon? How can you be starving?" Linda asked.

Shrugging his shoulders, Jack replied, "I don't know. I just am."

"Good idea on the blessing, Jack. How about you do that for us?" Frank said.

Everyone bowed their heads. Frank smiled at me, taking my hand in his and squeezing it as Jack said Grace.

"Amen. Good job, Jack." Frank said.

"So, how did you guys meet?" Linda repeated her question.

"Linda, some of us are hungry. Could you pass those potatoes?"

"Sure, Frank."

"In answer to your question, Linda," Frank said as he offered me the creamed potatoes and then dished out a large scoop for himself, dumping it on his plate before passing the bowl on. "Danny had the opportunity to meet Nicole on a police-related matter."

"I see," she replied. "Guess he didn't bother to mention it to me." She gave Danny a dirty look.

"And is he in the habit of discussing all police matters with you?" Frank asked.

"Well, no, not all, but seems like he would this one?"

"Why? Because it involved a beautiful woman?"

"Well, no. I mean, yes." Frank had obviously gotten her flustered, and seemed to be enjoying it.

"Well, which is it? Is Nicole beautiful, or not? Cause I kinda think she is." Frank kept at her.

Danny laughed, ribbed her a bit. "You better come up with the right answer."

"Of course she's beautiful."

"Good answer, Linda," Frank teased, smiling.

Taking pity on Linda, I changed the subject. "This meal is such a feast! Everything is delicious. I just have one question. How do you ladies manage to stay so thin with such elaborate meals?"

"We starve the rest of the week," Erin replied.

"Glad you're enjoying it, Nicole. So tell me, how did you and Francis meet?" Henry asked.

"We met at a dinner party," I replied. "A good friend introduced us."

"I see. Anyone I would know?" Henry asked.

"Sybil Rosseni introduced us, Pop. She and Nicole are close friends."

"Really? That's interesting," Henry said.

"Is it, Pop?"

"I think you know it is, Francis. We are talking about Anthony Rosseni's wife, right?"

"That would be the one," was Frank's reply.

"So, Nicole. Looks like he has a good chance of becoming our next mayor. What are the chances of Francis continuing on as Police Commissioner?" Henry asked.

"Yeah, what are my chances, Nicole?" Frank teased.

I smiled back at Frank. "I really couldn't say."

"Or won't," Danny jumped in.

I simply smiled back at him.

"So, Grandpa. She's your girlfriend?" Sean asked from across the table.

"You're not supposed to ask stuff like that," Jack whispered to him. "It's rude."

"That's right, Jack, it is rude. You shouldn't ask things like that," Danny said. Turning to Frank, he said, "So, tell us, Dad, _is _she your girlfriend?"

"Danny!" Linda slapped him on the arm.

"Question has been asked, Dad, might as well answer," Jamie chimed in.

"Yeah, Grandpa, tell us!" Nicky added.

"Yes! As a matter of fact, she is! Anyone got a problem with that!"

"Not me," could be heard around the table.

"All I can say is, it's about time, Francis!" Henry commented.

"Well, thanks, Pop!"

"Just saying, it's been a long time."

"Yes, I'm well aware of how long it's been, but thanks for reminding everyone."

"So, Nicole, what about you, have you been married before?" Henry asked.

"Yes, years ago."

"Nicole's husband was working in the south tower on 9-11," Frank replied.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Nicole. That must have been difficult. Sorry for your loss," Henry said.

"Thank you."

"Same here, Nicole. I'm not sure I've ever said that to you," Danny added.

"So how many times have you and Nicole met?" Linda asked.

"Will you give it a rest, Linda? A few times. Ok? We'll talk about it later."

"You got that right," she said quietly, staring down at her plate.

The room was quiet for a few moments, then Linda spoke again.

"I thought you looked familiar, Nicole! I just figured out why."

Frank and I exchanged smiles, expecting her to mention my novels.

"You were at the scene the other day. You were standing next to Mrs. Rosenni when they showed her on the news."

"Good thing you were on good behavior, and I didn't have to arrest you two," Danny said, grinning.

"Why would you have to arrest her, Uncle Danny?" Nicky asked. "You wouldn't really arrest Grandpa's girlfriend, would you?"

"I would if she gave me reason to. But I would do it politely, and with great respect," he replied, grinning at Frank.

"Is there something I need to know here?" a puzzled Frank asked, looking from Danny to me. "Did I miss something?"

"You didn't tell him, Nicole?"

"Tell him what, Danny? That you threatened to handcuff me and throw in a squad car?"

"You did_ what_?" Frank asked, clearly annoyed.

"It was nothing, Dad."

"Doesn't sound like nothing to me," Frank insisted.

"It really wasn't anything, Frank," I replied. I'll tell you about it later."

"Yes, you will."

It was the first time since we had sat that I had noticed Frank pursing his lips. I also couldn't help but notice the smirk on Danny's face, as he were proud of himself for creating a conflict between his dad and me.

"So, Nicole," Henry said. "Tell us more about yourself. Are you employed?"

"I'm a romance novelist. I write under the pen name of Cassandra Carrington."

"I love romance novels!" Nicky squealed. "Can I read one?"

"NO!" Frank and Erin replied in unison.

"Why not?" Nicky asked.

"Because they're too adult for you, that's why," Erin replied.

"How do you know, Mom? Have you read one?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I have."

"And so have I, and I agree with your mother," Frank said, taking a sip of his wine.

"Thank you, Dad."

"I've read Fifty Shades of Grey," Nicky announced proudly.

"You've WHAT?" Erin turned to her daughter, frowning.

"All the girls in school read it. It's no big deal."

"It is a big deal, Nicky. You have no business reading books like that. Don't you agree, Nicole?"

Uncomfortable to be put on the spot, and not wanting to make an immediate enemy of Frank's granddaughter, I replied, "I would just hope that Nicky, and all her friends who read the book, understand that it is not a romance, that there was nothing romantic about their relationship, at least in the first book. I've not read the other two, having found the subject matter of bondage and dominance of the first disturbing."

"But she loved him."

"I don't think she knew much about love, Nicky. She was quite naive," I replied.

Interrupting the conversation, Frank said, "You got something on your mind, Danny? What's that look on your face about?"

"I was just wondering the same thing," Jamie said.

I was just taking a sip of my wine when Danny answered. "Nothing, Dad, I was just thinking about you and your ties, that's all."

I choked on my wine.

"You okay, Nicole?" Erin asked.

"Yes, I'm fine. It just went down the wrong way," I replied, wiping my mouth with my napkin.

"Got a little strangled there, did ya, Nicole?" Danny teased.

"That's enough, Danny!" Frank said.

"Anyone besides me feel like they're missing something?" Jamie asked.

"Duh!" replied Linda. "Just all through dinner."

"I think it's time for dessert. We do have a dessert, don't we?" Frank asked.

"Yes, Linda brought a wonderful dessert, Dad," Erin said. "Danny, why don't you help me clear the table?'

"No, thanks, sis."

"Danny! Help your sister," Frank demanded.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll help," Jamie said.

"Me, too," added Nicky.

"Can we be excused?" Jack asked.

"You don't want dessert, Jack?" Linda asked. "I made your favorite."

"Actually, Linda, I don't think it's their favorite. I think it's yours," Danny said.

"Fine! You're excused. Go!"

Within in a few seconds, Frank, Henry, and I were the only three still seated at the table.

"Umm...I think I'll go see if I can help in the kitchen," Henry spoke up after a moment of silence.

"You do that, Pop."

"If you'll excuse me, Nicole," Henry said as he stood, pushed his chair in.

"Sure."

Frank took a deep breath. "Well, that went well."

"Did it?"

"Let's just say, for this family, it could have been worse." Taking my hand in his and putting it to his lips, Frank asked, "So, what do you think, Nicole? Can you handle the Reagan family, or are you ready to bail after all that?"

"Frank, it would take a whole lot worse than that to run me off."

"Glad to hear it," he said, as he reached over and kissed me.

"Who wants dessert?" Linda asked, as the whole Reagan crew returned.

"Me," Frank said, still holding my hand, his eyes fixed on mine.


End file.
